


Ridgeview School for Girls

by orphan_account



Category: Ocean's (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Boarding School AU, F/F, Forced Bonding, High School AU, Ocean's 8 - Freeform, Roommates, Slow burn Debbie and Lou, and it might get really long???, let's see where this goes, really not that into each other at first tbh, this is a mess, will be angsty but also fluffy but also a pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:28:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Debbie and the Ocean's 7 are gearing up for senior year at Ridgeview School for Girls, prepared for any and all shenanigans and cons - prepared for all but the arrival of one long-legged Australian who just can't seem to let Debbie rest. Especially not when it turns out that they might have more in common than initially presumed, and Debbie finds she can't get Lou out of her head for more reasons than just one.





	1. The Five Stages of Grief: Denial, Anger, Running to the Principal, Acceptance, Unrelenting Bickering.

**Author's Note:**

> Be patient.
> 
> This is the slowest of burns, and I am still figuring out where this will be going. Stick with it, and I'll promise we'll get through this ride together.

It was the end of August, a time filled with the scents of autumn rain to come, and the last summer flowers wilting in the courtyard. A return to the familiar after three months away. Debbie took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air as she stood in front of the old brick dormitories with her father and her brother, saying their final goodbyes.

“We’re proud of you kid,” her father said breathlessly, as he pulled her into a hug. “And your mother would be too.”

“Geez, dad,” Debbie laughed, embarrassed yet touched, gently patting her father’s back.

She was a senior now, and it would be her last year at the Ridgeview School for Girls. Her last year of preparing for life on the other side, her last year spent roaming the grounds with her best friends. It was bittersweet, but it was time.

“Leader of the infamous Ocean’s 7,” Danny reminded her as he hugged her in turn. “don’t you dare ruin our good name. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Debbie met his gaze with a raised brow as he pulled away, and he simply winked in return.

Senior year came with its own series of benefits for Debbie. After three years of living in the shadow of the seniors, having to con them on the downlow while still putting up a mock scared front, she was free to terrorize the school with her own gang of misfits. It was an opportunity that gave her great chances to practice for the life she knew awaited her once school was out. Preparation for a lifetime of crime to come. It was one of her favourite things to do at school, conning her classmates and manipulating them to do her bidding. They never ran cons involving minor theft or permanent damage to a person at Ridgeview though, opting for the sibling school for boys further into town.

“Don’t be stupid, okay?” her father grabbed her shoulder and fixed her with a serious stare. “I know we have connections, but we can’t save you from any major mishaps. Don’t get yourself kicked out your final year.”

“I know, I know,” Debbie rolled her eyes, aware of the exact incident he was referring to from the year before. “I’ll be a good girl. Now run along, you’re making it look like we actually love each other.”

Her father grinned, and Danny chuckled outright. Debbie gave them a final wave as the got into her father’s car, and turned to head upstairs into the dorm. On her way she passed Amita, who was saying a heated goodbye to a family of twenty at the front steps. Debbie climbed the two flights of stairs to the senior floor of the dormitory and grinned victoriously.

In addition to being free from the grasp of her family’s overpowering presence, Debbie had something else to look forward to this year. Her father had secured her a single room, complete with its own bathroom, a privilege only offered to a few senior girls who had either the funds or the connections. While she had enjoyed living with one of her closest friends, Tammy, for the past few years, she was glad not to have to share a bathroom with all the other girls on her floor this time around. Besides, Tammy was excited to be rooming with Rose this year, and had no qualms with Debbie moving out.

She made her way down the hallway, letting herself drag her suitcase into her new room, and began to unpack. The next hour was spent setting clothes neatly in the dresser, arranging school supplies inside the desk, and admiring this new space, a room she had all to herself. It would make for a great meeting point for their makeshift criminal group, although she would have to soundproof it as much as possible before they began planning anything major. The calm didn’t last long, as there suddenly came a loud knocking at the door. Debbie jumped up, and had barely gotten the door open before Constance and Nine Ball were bursting through the entranceway, hugging her in a joyous reunion.

“Senior year, senior year!” Constance cheered excitedly, jumping up and down as she squeezed the two other girls tightly.

Nine Ball pried herself from her grip, whistling as she looked around Debbie’s room. “Nice digs. Lucky you.”

Debbie grinned, twirling the key to the room around her finger.

“Being an Ocean’s comes with its perks,” she sang.

Together the trio walked from the dorms to the dining hall, for their first dinner back at school. There was something about the food at Ridgeview; the kitchen staff seemed to have been hired on a government program, one that specialized in ensuring jobs for heavy smokers.

“I did not miss this,” Debbie said as she ate her chicken soup.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Constance said, eagerly stuffing her face with a mix of unidentifiable meat and mashed potatoes. A lump of potato found its way down her chin as she spoke, and Debbie cringed.

They were soon joined by more familiar faces, as the cafeteria filled up with students who wouldn’t be eating a final dinner with their parents before parting ways. The row of seats was slowly occupied completely. Rose. Daphne. Amita. Tammy. Debbie smiled as they took their seats around her, happy to finally see her friends again after a long summer away. They had all arrived, finally reunited, proud members of the Ocean’s 7 each and every one of them. This was their last year at school, and she was sure they would make it a good one. A year full of potential and mischievous schemes.

After dinner and a cheerful walk around the grounds as night fell, spent catching up and falling back into familiar banter, they returned to the dorms to find their schedules waiting for them in their mailboxes in the lobby. There were no surprises, as Debbie had registered before summer began and knew exactly was she was taking; and what she had been stuck with. She preferred it that way, knowing exactly what lay ahead of her. Made it easier to work around it.

She frowned at the sheet apprehensively as the group climbed the stairs, though at least tomorrow she would only be attending classes she had planned to sign up for.

Debbie went to bed early that night, as soon as ten o’clock curfew hit. It was her last night without homework or planning with her girls, and she took full advantage of it by resting up, her clothes for the next day already laid out over the back of her desk chair in preparation. There was no roommate to make noise, no one to tell her to keep the light on, and the room remained blessedly dark and quiet as she drifted off to sleep. She knew that senior year would academically be the most difficult of them all, but despite the exhaustion already creeping at the corners of her mind, she wanted more than anything to make the most of it, and conquer the days ahead of her.

 

* * *

 

 

Debbie awoke promptly to her alarm, dressed and threw her school bag over her shoulder. After breakfast in the cafeteria, and getting the chance to compare schedules with the other girls, she headed to the academic building for her first class of the day, Economics with Mr. Flick. Debbie was one of the few students who knew that this was in fact not his real last name, but merely a cover up. He was a friend of her father, and had been hiding out at Ridgeview after having gotten caught up in some nasty business with the IRS. He was patient and kindhearted, but with an air of nervousness that clung to him like water to a fish. Economics was one of the few subjects that Debbie had followed since her freshman year, at first due to her father’s insistence, but then she took it again because she found it was truly interesting.

Next was History with Mrs. Payne, an accurate description of what her teaching was. A complete and utter pain. She was a tiny woman, with a squeaky voice and demure personality. She seemed to care as little about history as her students. It was, however, a mandatory subject that Debbie just had to sit through. At least she had Rose to entertain her, the irish girl interrupting Mrs. Payne regularly to explain American history from a European point of view. Her painfully honest description of the foolishness of some of the defining decisions in their history was hilarious, not only to Debbie but to everyone with a sense of humour and a lack of patriotism.

Overall, it was a successful morning. Her first classes of the year went well, and she was eager to circle back to her friends and talk to them about the fact that Rose had made a teacher leave the classroom due to her incessant ramblings on the very first day.

She left the academic building, crossing the courtyard back to the dining hall to meet them for lunch. The breeze ruffled her brown hair and she let out a contented sigh, closing her eyes, happy to be back on schedule at her home away from home.

Suddenly, she was jarred and nearly knocked over as someone ran into her from behind.

“My bad! In a bit of a rush, sorry…” a voice sputtered, and Debbie whirled around just in time to see a unkempt blonde girl breeze past her, mussing her hair with a hand covered in rings. Debbie huffed as she spun around once more and saw her running off towards the dining hall.

“Watch where you’re going,” she grumbled under her breath, rubbing her shoulder where the other girl had smacked into her. It was odd, she had looked old enough to be a senior, but Debbie had never seen her before. With an annoyed twitch of her eyebrows, she adjusted her school bag and followed the fleeing form leisurely.

When she pushed open the big wooden doors, she found Tammy and Amita smiling and waving at her cheerily from a table near the windows, overlooking the lake.

“So how was your morning?” she asked, eating a forkful of bright orange macaroni.

“Biology was good,” Amita chimed in. “Mr. Flood seems like he’s actually competent.”

“We had a lecture on the genetics of flowers and how they intermix. It was pretty interesting,” Tammy added.

The pair had decided to take AP Biology, and Debbie could not for the life of her figure out why they would willingly submit themselves to such torture. They had always been the smartest of the bunch. Sure, she admired them for that, but God, could they be annoying about it when the mood struck them.

But Debbie just nodded, secretly a little envious that two of her best friends had a matching schedule while she only shared a handful of courses with them all year. But she had made a choice at the end of the last year, and had picked what actually interested her as opposed to what her friends would be in.

“So what are you going to do the rest of the year, make freak plants that eat humans and cast ancient curses?” she joked.

“I mean, we did plant some seeds today. Not sure that’s what they’re for though,” Amita said. “Oh! And we found something else out today, turns out we have a new-”

“Speak of the devil,” Tammy hissed, her eyes staring off behind Amita.

Debbie looked over her shoulder, and there was the girl who had run straight into her, standing in the middle of the hall with her lunch tray and looking at the crowd surrounding her for a place to sit. She wore a loose fitting dress shirt, unbuttoned nearly halfway down. Her neck was covered in golden chains, legs enclosed in a pair of incredibly tight leather pants. Her shirt was tucked in, and her one hand was hooked through the belt loop of her pants as she scanned the room. As opposed to anyone else who had just started attending a new school, she did not look nervous in the slightest. Instead she looked as if she was observing the crowd, judging where to sit based on their immediate appearances. Any other kid in her place would settle for just sitting with  _ someone _ .

Apparently she found noone who was worthy of her presence, settling down at the corner of a table. She took to looking at her food, as if it were planning to attack her.

“Who is that?” Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the new kid,” Tammy replied, “she was in our biology class too.”

Debbie could have guessed this, seeing as there appeared to be potting soil on the girl’s shirt leftover from the planting process.

“Her name’s Lou. She didn’t talk much but Nine Ball told me she was sent here at the last minute,” Amita explained further.

“Can’t she just hack into her file, find out why she’s here?” Debbie frowned slightly.

“She did,” Tammy sighed and placed her fork on her plate with a sense of finality, “but she wouldn’t say what it said. Which means either it was really mundane, or really personal.”

Debbie eyed her, disliking this Lou immediately, factoring together her hippie-like appearance and the shock she had given Debbie earlier out in the courtyard. And here she was, sitting with a tray of food and staring down at her hands, as if she had forgotten how to eat. She looked somewhat sedated, blonde hair falling in her eyes and shoulders slumped.

“She on drugs or something?” she pondered, taking a greasy fry from Amita’s plate and throwing it in her mouth.

Amita turned back to her lunch to make it less obvious they were speaking of her.

“Considering her position, I’d say it’s more likely she’s upset. Probably scared too. Moving to a new school is all kinds of scary,” she commented, “maybe she doesn’t want to be here at all.”

“Clearly,” Debbie huffed, continuing to watch with a thoughtful frown as Lou seemed to come back to herself, noticing the curious looks she was receiving from various tables and moving to dig into her food. “I don’t get why boarding school has such a shitty reputation. We live at a school with our friends, no adult supervision, and we’re practically set up to do whatever we want in our lives. I don’t see the problem.”

“Changing schools probably isn’t easy on her,” Tammy shrugged. “Anyway, how about you? How was your morning?”

“Classes were good. Rose made Payne rip her hair out when she began ranting about the potato famine. Flick is still acting like the FBI is on his ass, but-” Debbie cut herself off, scowling as she spotted something else that warranted her disapproval. Rose and Daphne came stumbling into the dining hall, Rose’s hair even more of a mess than usual and Daphne’s bra strap hanging loose from the sleeve of her t-shirt.

“Oh,” Amita uttered, “I forgot about that. I thought they broke up last year.”

“They did,” Debbie commented dryly.

Daphne and Rose pushed a few freshmen out of the way as they made for the lunch line, Daphne smiling sweetly at a young girl who tried to stand up to her. She whispered something to the girl, resulting in her pushing through the nearby crowd to get away, tears pushing at her eyes.

“Ah, senior year. Isn’t it nice to finally be on top, ladies?” Rose asked as they sat down by their table. Her eyes were filled with silent panic, a plea for silence regarding their appearance.

“Is that right, Rose?” Debbie asked curiously, eyes widening in question, “I always thought you were more of a bottom.”

Daphne threw her a glare, her pale cheeks turning pink. Rose looked down at her plate, neglecting to respond as she pushed the food around on her plate.

“ _ Debbie _ ,” Tammy scolded. While it was quite obvious that the two were engaged in some sort of affair, Debbie was never one to stick to being subtle. She thrived on other’s agony. “Stop it.”

“Oh, come on, she can take it. We know Rose isn’t shy,” Debbie grinned, pushing the irish girl’s shoulder in good spirits, eyebrows wiggling as she spoke.

Rose had shared a room with Constance the year before, and Constance hadn’t been around much due to her compulsive need to go and pickpocket downtown whenever possible. Daphne and Rose had started a tentative relationship, spending their spare time in Rose’s room where they would, evidently, engage in certain  _ premarital activities _ . That’s what the noises had indicated, anyways.

“Guys, come on,” Daphne interjected, patting Rose’s hands from across the table.

“My bad,” Debbie rolled her eyes, “I can clearly see why you would let Daphne push you around Rose. She’s a gem.”

She winked, only to feel her mood drop as the others snickered her way.

“Right. Who wouldn’t want an ungodly, wealthy, pretty girl leading them around telling them what to do, I ask you?” Tammy said, her gaze turned innocently upward as Daphne let out an amused snort.

“What,” Debbie demanded, putting down her fork and raising her brows in challenge, “was that a dig at me? Are you talking about me?”

“Oh no, no, my dear, we  _ love _ you,” Tammy assured her, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking her playfully as the others nodded.

Debbie smiled back, reluctantly admitting that they were quite entertaining in their own, annoying way. She wiggled out of Tammy’s grasp when she realized her shoulder still ached from her courtyard collision with the new kid.

After lunch, Debbie had Personal Finance with Mr. Biggs, a tall, muscular man with an inch thick moustache and jet black hair. He always looked like he was ready to expel you at the drop of a pencil, but he was actually quite pleasant - if you behaved. It was a bit boring though, as Debbie found him to be over-complicating the lesson. She was happy to note that their first assignment of the semester would be a paper on the effects of tax evasion, a subject she was all to familiar with.

When that class was over, she climbed the stairs up to her final course of the day, French, a language she had been forced to take by her father, who claimed that being well versed in all the major languages of the world was crucial. She had already mastered German and Spanish, but found she was excited to add another language to her repertoire.

French was taught by a Mrs. Cartier, commonly referred to as “the Bulldog,” and at times even  _ Mr.  _ Cartier.

She was always on the lookout for a kid to throw in detention, and she was formal and strict. She was a complete nightmare for any freshmen who happened to cross her in the hallways, her walk much like that of a hunting dog, sniffing at the trails left behind by an innocent rabbit. Many students were warned not to take French, but Debbie wasn’t worried. She was basically untouchable, and she had yet to meet a teacher who dared cross her. She would never let herself be afraid of a teacher.

Debbie was happy to see Rose already seated, having promised to take the class with her. She reasoned the decision by saying that she would need to speak French if she wanted to have any shot at a career within the fashion world. Besides, the girl had picked up quite a bit of the language during holidays spent with her Aunt Agathe in the french countryside.

Sliding into the seat besides her friend, Debbie playfully swatted at her hair, patting it down in its most unruly places.

“You look absolutely ravishing,” she purred, laughing as Rose made to slap her hand away, “a sight for sore eyes. A beauty without compare. Not at all like a woman who has spent the better part of the morning with a devious little minx all over her.”

“I did not!” Rose spluttered, lowering her voice as several sets of eyes moved to where the noise had emerged from, “it was half an hour, at most. And we were just… talking.”

“Uh-huh,” Debbie nodded, whispering as Mrs. Cartier stepped into the room, “just talking.”

The entire class fell silent, the only sound the loud click of the teacher’s pointy heels as she approached the desk in the front of the room. She turned to look at them all, eyes buried deep within her face and lips set in a thin line. She straightened her blazer, running veiny hands across the front of her body. The tension in the room was deafening, no one daring to make a sound. All that was heard was the shuffling of papers as Mrs. Cartier picked up her attendance sheet and began calling out names.

All were there, except one student who was notably missing.

“Miss Miller?” she called out for the third time, voice thick with annoyance. Her mouth tightened as she marked her absent.

Mrs. Cartier was halfway through her introduction to the class when miss Miller finally made her appearance. She burst through the door, necklaces tangled together and making soft clinking sounds as she peered around the room. Straightening her back, she looked directly at Mrs. Cartier.

“Miss Miller?” the teacher sneered, stopping her before she could find a seat.

“I couldn’t find the classroom,” the girl spoke, seeming more angry than apologetic, her voice thick with an accent Debbie couldn’t quite place, “I didn’t even know I was in this class.”

Debbie scoffed, turning her eyes to her notes. She felt the eyes of the other girl on her, but refused to acknowledge her.

“Is there some sort of exchange program granting scholarships to foreign kids?” Rose muttered, “because I want one.”

“I will be lenient on that account as this is the first day of school,” Mrs. Cartier told the girl, “but that does not excuse your blatant interruption of the other students. Am I to assume you’ve already received detention in another class for your ruckus, Miss Miller?”

“It’s Lou,” platinum blonde bangs were brushed aside with a flick of a bracelet covered wrist.

“Excuse me?”

“My name is Lou. Not Miss Miller,” she smiled at Mrs. Cartier, an overly sweet and patronizing smile.

Students at the very back of the room hid their mouths behind their hands and let out oooh’s, seemingly impressed with the courage of this new girl. Debbie had to admit, she had guts. Or maybe she was just plain stupid.

“Right,  _ Lou _ ,” Mrs. Cartier returned her smile and folded her hands in front of her body, “I will make sure to remember that when I see you for detention tomorrow. Now  _ sit _ .”

Lou accepted the detention slip from the teacher, letting out an exasperated sigh. Her gaze wandered over the students watching her intently and met the eyes of Debbie, a flicker of recognition in her eyes before Debbie cast her own gaze to her desk.

She settled for a seat in the corner, pushing her chair back and leaning into it, steadying herself using the wall and spreading her legs obscenely. Her arms were crossed firmly across her chest, and she looked out the window next to her.

The lesson resumed after that, and after Mrs. Cartier had finished going over the syllabus and expectations, she went over to the blackboard. She picked up a piece of chalk and wrote DISCIPLINE across the board in big white letters, emphasizing it with an underline.

“We’ll start off this week with the very relevant topic of discipline here at this school,” she said, indicating Lou as he put down the chalk. “It seems some of you lack this important skill. I know you’re all relatively smart and well-spoken ladies, or otherwise you wouldn’t be here. So let’s try this right away, shall we? I want two of you, up here, engaged in a conversation in  _ french _ . No speaking English, no laughing, no pausing. This goes for everyone else in the room too. Any volunteers?”

Rose immediately raised her hand, fingers wiggling excitingly as she bounced in her seat. She was shy and reserved in most scenarios, but she was set on impressing Mrs. Cartier this year.

But Mrs. Cartier didn’t even spare her a second look, instead focusing her eyes on Debbie, a cheshire grin spreading across her wrinkled cheeks.

“You,” she said, beckoning Debbie to the front with the bend of a finger. Debbie made to protest, mouth falling open as she began to speak.

“Mrs, I don’t know any french really, it’s not fair,” she tried, even as she was slowly rising from her seat.

“Learn by doing, Miss Ocean,” she said cooly, moving aside so that Debbie could stand by the blackboard.

She then turned to the rest of the class, smiling leisurely as she strolled around the desks. She bounced her nails against the desk that Lou happened to be sitting at.

“How about you, Miss Miller?” she looked infinitely pleased with herself, and Debbie nearly felt bad for the new girl. She had already earned herself at least one detention, and now she was about to be put on the spot in front of a room of judgemental teenage girls.

Lou just nodded, looking incredibly annoyed as she stood to take her place by the blackboard, standing across from Debbie. She looked her up and down, and Debbie felt her skin itch at the scrutinizing look. Although she was no stranger to searching looks, she was nonetheless uncomfortable whenever someone looked at her as if they knew something they weren’t supposed to. Lou watched her with a sense of familiarity in her eyes, and something seemed to Debbie as to say that she knew her as more than just the girl she had rudely pushed in the courtyard.

To be fair, Debbie was quite well known at the school. Her name and her status as Danny’s little sister and resident commander in chief made her a hot topic.

“Now speak,” Mrs. Cartier demanded, sitting down in the seat Lou had just vacated.

Debbie looked to her in bewilderment, having expected at least a prompt or a sentence to speak from, as opposed to simply being thrown into the deep end head first. She looked from Mrs. Cartier, to Lou, and back to Mrs. Cartier. Both were looking at her expectantly, assuming she would take the steering.

“Uhm, bonjour,” she began, looking at Lou who stood there, an infuriating smirk on her thin lips, “je m'appelle Debbie. Et toi?”

Had Debbie known any better, she would say Lou was about to let loose a steady stream of bullshit, some mix of make-believe French and English. Her mouth twitched as she seemed to consider her words, a dangerous glint in her bright blue eyes as she looked Debbie up and down once more.

“Salut Debbie. Je suis désolée que nous soyons coincés dans cette classe avec cette vieille sorcière, et qu'elle vous mette dans la peau comme ça quand vous ne parlez évidemment pas français,” the words tumbled from her lips at a rapid pace, her arms gesturing to Mrs. Cartier, then to Debbie herself, “je suis sûr qu'elle est seulement horrible parce qu'elle n'en a pas eu au siècle dernier. Je ne m'inquièterais pas pour ça.”

A stunned silence filled the room, save for the sound of Mrs. Cartiers heavy breathing as she looked upon Lou, a mixture of embarrassment, amazement and unadulterated rage on her heavyset features. It was evident that neither Debbie nor the rest of the class had any clue what had just been said, except Debbie was sure she heard the term “evil hag,” mentioned. Rose was sniggering softly beneath her hand, looking at Lou like she had just given an awe inspiring speech of some sort. And maybe she had, Debbie reckoned.

Applause filled the room after a beat, girls whooping and throwing their fists to the roof in excitement. The look upon Mrs. Cartier’s face was worth a million bucks, and the anger the whole class would be on the receiving end of was nothing compared to the glee they all felt at that moment. Debbie may have been the only student not to rejoice in Lou’s mastery of the French language, feeling inferior for the first time in a long, long time. She was Debbie Ocean for God’s sake, she did not do embarrassment. Nor did she do failure.

She briefly remembered that she was supposed to continue the conversation, as allowing Lou to have the last word would be considered a failure.

“Oui,” she simply nodded, blushing when the rest of the class burst into laughter at her response, “tres bien.”

Before Lou had the chance to jump into yet another spiel, most likely to comment on Debbie’s lack of skills concerning the unfamiliar language, Mrs. Cartier raised her hand and demanded silence. She got back on her feet, approaching the front of the room like one would the sacred halls of an ancient tomb.

Once she reached the girls she traded her look of confusion with one of overbearance and false cheerfulness. She clapped her hands together once.

“Right ladies,” she nodded solemnly, a smile as fake as the swim coach’s breasts plastered on her face. “That’s enough.”

Dismissing the pair with a wave of her hands, she pointed to two other students, an effort to move on from the uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment Lou had brought upon her.

Debbie sat down in her previous spot, ignoring Rose’s comments on her “excellent” effort. She crossed her arms and threw a glare over at Lou. How dare she make a fool of her in front of a teacher like that, when she was trying to enjoy this class and actually learn something. Someone had to have the conversation with her, and Debbie hadn’t even volunteered. Without meaning to, she had placed herself in the middle of a warzone, the battle between Lou and the teacher escalating.

No one should blame her for her attempt at a conversation, it was never her choice. She hadn’t learned any french anyways, how was that fair?

Lou caught her looking in her direction and gave a little wave of her fingers. Debbie scowled and spent the rest of the class examining the patterns in the wooden surface of her desk.

She was glad to be free of the stuffy classroom once it was over, and she quickly hurried across the courtyard back to the dorms to unwind in peace and quiet. She climbed the stairs up to the top floor, two steps at a time, and headed to the end of the hall where she extracted her key, unlocked her door, and… stared.

Someone had been in the room. Someone had put more furniture in it since she had left it that morning for breakfast. Someone had moved her things to one side of the room, and put their things on the other side. Now there was a second bed, a second dresser, a second desk, and a lump of brown leather bags that appeared to be a stranger’s luggage. Debbie was pale, confused by this unexpected intrusion. How could this be?

“Oh. It’s you,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

Debbie spun around and there was Lou Miller, key in hand, although she pocketed it quite hastily seeing that the door was already open.

“What are you doing?” Debbie demanded. “Are these your things? Get them out of here. This is a  _ single _ . This is  _ my _ dorm. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

Lou frowned, still standing there in the doorway where she didn’t belong. Her posture was one of feigned relaxation, the flexing of the muscles in her arms and neck speaking of barely concealed tension. She looked about ready to pounce, to the trained eye.

“I think ‘didn’t anyone tell you’ is a question for you, really. They didn’t have anymore doubles open, so they added me to this room. I didn’t do this princess, so unknot your panties please,” Lou rolled her eyes.

“Jesus christ,” Debbie murmured before fixing Lou with a deadly glare, “they didn’t even ask me. I  _ paid _ to be alone, dammit. This is ridiculous.”

“Get used to it, sugar,” Lou pushed past her into the room, their shoulders colliding for the second time that day.

Debbie looked on speechlessly as Lou laid down on the newly added bed, folding her hands behind her head and smirking at the dumbfounded girl in front of her. Debbie was positively fuming. Yet she realized there was no point in discussing this any further with Lou, knowing that wouldn’t change anything. No, she knew what she had to do. She had to go further up the ladder.

“Don’t pack,” she threw over her shoulder as she left the room, leaving Lou behind.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings!” Lou called after her, “It was just a stupid conversation!”

Debbie marched back down each flight of stairs and exited the dorms once more, making her way to the administration building at the front entrance of the school. It was the most impressive piece of architecture on the grounds, with several columns supporting a round portico and a large dome for a roof. The steps at the entrance were flanked by sculpted figures of lions ready to pounce, a testament to the mind of the authorities within the building. She had only needed to come here a few times before, having attempted to avoid the building as much as possible to avoid questions and puzzled looks from the other students. However, this was an important enough issue to warrant another visit.

“I need to see the principal,” Debbie demanded as he went up to Brenda, the receptionist in front of the principal’s office. She looked up from the magazine in front of her, and grinned in recognition when she saw who it was that was speaking to her. She stood, and although she was quite a bit shorter than Debbie, she looked as if she had little time for someone she considered so far beneath her. Brenda opened the office door, poking her head in and speaking softly to the man on the other side.

“Fine,” she said, turning and opening the door further for Debbie, the move accompanied by an impatient roll of the eyes, “you can go in.”

Debbie went through the doorway, and there was Principal Carmine, seated at his big mahogany desk, setting down his pen and looking up from the papers he was signing.

“Debbie,” he grinned, “I thought you might be coming here soon.”

“Uncle Carmine,” Debbie nodded respectfully. Her arms were crossed firmly across her chest, and she refused to walk any further into the room.

“Pray tell, is this about your new roommate?” her uncle raised his brows in mock surprise.

Debbie raised her eyebrows, not at all surprised that he would know exactly why she was there. Of course he would know that she would be dissatisfied.

“I understand you may be concerned, but I’ll have you know that I called your father this morning, and he actually suggested Miss Miller room with you,” Carmine leaned back into his plush leather chair, connecting his fingers in front of him as he smiled sweetly.

“I… what?” Debbie fumed, shaking her head violently, “my dad made this happen? I wasn’t even asked! I can’t room with some stranger, she’ll mess everything up!”

Debbie knew her chance for an argument was slipping away, unless she were to reveal every part of her stay at the school to her uncle. He was still the principal, after all, and he was required to punish any student who breaked the school rules and moral codex. Conning and stealing was definitely not something he would take kindly to, despite his family’s exploits.

“I know this is tough,” he spoke once more, leaning onto his desk to look her straight in the eye, “and don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to these past few years. You have been lucky that I’ve never caught you in the act. But I know the stories, Debbie, and I know you wanted to use that single room to explore even more possibilities. I’m alright with it, obviously, as long as we can agree that you won’t do anything stupid to get you caught. But I think you’ll find that Miss Miller could be a… useful, addition.”

So he knew. Of course he knew. And of course he was going to let her continue. But to let Lou in on her schemes? Allow her to be part of the group? That was out of question.

“Isn’t there a limit to the amount of students you can accept?” she groaned, knowing the battle was already lost.

“I made an exception for Miss Miller,” Carmine shrugged, obviously enjoying the displeasure radiating off of Debbie.

_ But why? _ she wanted to ask, but she could tell she wasn’t going to get an honest answer. Seemed she was going to be stuck with this stranger, this loud and annoying stranger. A boisterous, arrogant, weirdly dressed stranger.

“I know you’re going to be very welcoming and warm towards our new student, of course,” the stare her uncle fixed her with was nothing short of demanding, a warning that bad things would follow should she not heed his advice.

Debbie stared, disconsolate, and she felt the threatening sting of tears in her eyes. She was not a sensitive person at first glance, but she was a control freak and when things did not go her way, she had a tendency to get very, very upset.

“Fine.”

She swallowed painfully, turning on her heel and leaving the office with a heavy head. She walked back across the crowded quad in a trance, disbelieving that she was still stuck sharing a room with Lou, the girl who had made a fool of her in French, who had nearly knocked her over because she didn’t watch where she was going, who dressed like a seventies pimp and gave her stupid pet names within an hour of knowing one another.

She returned to the dorm and went up to her room, pushing the door open and finding Lou had already unzipped her luggage, placing a collection of tacky jewelry upon an array of ring holders and necklace trays upon her dresser. Debbie narrowed her eyes, offended that Lou had not followed her command not to unpack, even if she hadn’t been capable of overturning the room situation.

She chose not to say anything, and turned to her side of the room, taking off her shoes and throwing them to the side. Lou would know that nothing had changed by her silence anyway, why bother confirming it?

“So it’s Debbie, right?”

“Yes,” she said simply, sitting on the bed and laying back, staring at the blank ceiling.

“You’ve been here all four years?”

“Yes. And I got this room because I wanted a quiet place to  _ myself _ . So understand right now, me lying here like this means I do not want to talk to you.”

Lou fell silent, continuing to unpack her things. Debbie watched out of the corner of her eye, wanting to make sure that Lou at least kept her belongs contained to her own side, and that her space wasn’t a complete mess. She could not handle a mess in her room already. Judging by Lou’s entire demeanor though, she might soon have an issue with that.

“You know, you’re not at all how I expected you to be,” Lou mused, finally having gotten enough of the awkward silence. Debbie simply grunted in response.

“I mean, conman and sister of Danny Ocean,” the casual mention of things she should not know about made Debbie perk up, “I expected at least some charm. Not a cold, boring bitch.”

Lou moved around the room like she actually belonged there, shoving her bags beneath her bed and sitting down in her desk chair. She leaned back, arms and legs spread as if she was trying to take up as much space as physically possible.

“I can’t say you’re a ray of sunshine either,” Debbie retorted, sitting up straighter.

“No, you’re right,” Lou nodded thoughtfully, before smirking once more, “I’m as mean as cat’s piss, and I wouldn’t sell you ice in winter. Maybe we’ll get along after all.”

Debbie could already tell that this new rooming situation would lead to a lot of eye rolling and exasperation. Deciding not to humor Lou with a response she simply huffed and laid back down on her bed. She was not in the mood to deal with any interruptions right now - and definitely not an interruption in the shape of a smartass who was supposed to be everywhere but  _ her _ room right now.

Lou returned to unpacking, and Debbie saw her pick up a bag of toiletries to take into the bathroom.

“Oh,” Debbie shot upright, catching Lou by surprise. “Maybe you should just use the group bathroom down the hall?”

“What?” Lou asked, turning around wide-eyed.

“I mean, this was supposed to be just mine. And normally, if you had been put in any other room, you’d be using the group bathroom anyway.”

“What, you already mark your territory in there?” Lou asked, her brows drawn down angrily as she jerked her thumb back towards the bathroom door.

“Don’t be crass,” Debbie said, her jaw tightening, “I was just thinking that, logically-”

“I should use the one in here, because it’s the one in our room? Because that is exactly what I was going to say,” she opened the bathroom door and put her toiletries down pointedly, shoving Debbie’s perfume and toothbrush to the edge of the counter. “I’m glad that’s settled.”

Lou came back out of the bathroom and looked at Debbie, worrying her lip between her teeth as she studied her closely. “You know, you’d be beautiful if you weren’t such a stuck up bitch.”

Never one to be outdone, Debbie had a response on the tip of her tongue right away. Too bad Lou was already out of the room, darting between crowds of confused freshmen, her worn-down sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. Fine, run away. Debbie didn’t want to talk to her anyways.

 

* * *

 

Running laps around the lake on the grounds was an excellent way to get your thought straight. Debbie had figured that out her freshman year, when Tammy had told her about a friend of hers who had cheated on her boyfriend with  _ another girl _ . Debbie had used that run to figure out that, maybe, her boyfriend at the time wasn’t exactly the only option out there. Maybe Sophie from the room across the hall from her own was actually a lot cuter than she had dared admit before. And maybe she wanted to kiss Sophie instead.

Since then she had used her occasional runs to ponder relationships with both girls and guys, her feelings towards her mother’s death, her family’s criminal affairs, and so much more. It was her breathing space.

She breathed in the fresh air to alleviate the tension she felt inside. She admitted that perhaps she had been to harsh on Lou. To be fair, the other girl hadn’t asked to be placed in her room. Her father had made sure she was put there.

And maybe wanting to have the bathroom to herself had been a bit selfish, considering the money for the single had been given back. If she had known this would happen though, she would have stayed rooming with Tammy. Even if she had been over-dramatic about the situation, she still didn’t  _ like _ Lou. She would just have to tolerate her presence, and try to be the responsible, compassionate, role model student she was expected to be.

After a total of three laps around the lake, she went to her room and got changed, before heading to the cafeteria. Everyone else was already there, chatting loudly about the new batch of students who had arrived. Scared, confused and homesick freshmen sat at the end of the table, listening not so subtly.

When Debbie sat down with her friends, they could tell she was much more subdued than she had been at lunchtime, as she stared blankly down at her dinner.

“You alright, Deb?” Daphne asked.

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what to think. I’ve got a roommate now, apparently,” she nodded in confirmation to the shocked looks on her friends’ faces. “It’s Lou.”

She glanced up, looking around the room for her, but it seemed she hadn’t come to dinner.

“Really?” Tammy asked, shocked. “But how?”

“Apparently my dad told my uncle I wouldn’t mind having a roommate after all,” her eyes were starting to hurt from the amount she had rolled them today. “So I’m stuck with a hard-nosed foreigner for what’s supposed to be the best year of my school career.”

“She can’t be that bad,” Nine Ball offered diplomatically.

“Oh, well you didn’t see what she did to our poor Deb in French class,” Rose grinned menacingly, “she was embarrassed alright.”

“What?” Tammy moved to the edge of her seat, looking at Debbie expectantly. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” Debbie fixed Rose with a glare that promised she would get her revenge, and Rose visibly shuddered.

“Does that mean we can’t all hang out in your room?” Constance sounded nearly as disappointed as Debbie was.

“No, not anymore.”

“Maybe she’ll be okay with it?”

Debbie didn’t want to mention the trying times she had already endured with Lou today and only shrugged dismissively, shaking her head sadly.

“You’re always welcome in our room, boss,” Constance patted her back in what was no doubt meant to be a comforting gesture, but only left Debbie worried that the other girl was trying to knick her necklace, “Nine Ball won’t mind.”

While the offer was appreciated, Debbie was very much aware that the room Nine Ball and Constance occupied was more of a smoke hut than a bedroom. It was not conductive to more serious meetings regarding their endeavors.

“Or ours,” Tammy nudged Rose in the side, and the Irish girl nodded enthusiastically.

“Our door is always open too,” Daphne chimed in, before winking at Rose, “unless it’s not.”

“Thanks, ladies. I’m going to stop feeling sorry for myself now,” Debbie said with a guilty, half-hearted laugh. “It’s not like a school year is that long a time.”

“Consider it practice,” Rose grinned, “for when all of us move into your apartment next year, and you’ll be stuck with us for the rest of your life.”

“Right,” Debbie clicked her tongue and laughed for real this time. “I can’t wait.”

After dinner, the girls all headed back together - except for Constance, who had run off in the middle of dinner, claiming she had to see a man about a thing. They walked across the darkened lawn, talking quietly amongst themselves.

“So when are we going to have our first proper  _ meeting _ ?” Amita asked in an animated whisper.

Debbie laughed. “Well, I have to figure out where first. But you girls best believe I have a thing or two planned for us this year.”

“We didn’t doubt you for a second, Bosslady,” Nine Ball chimed in from the back of the group.

“Hey,” Tammy slithered up next to her. “Can you make sure you don’t put it during soccer practice? I want to be able to go, and since I’m team captain now, maybe we can coordinate our scheduling?”

“Of course, Tam-Tam,” Debbie threw her arm across her friend’s shoulders, “it’s an unofficial meeting for a bunch of criminals, I don’t think the schedule will be set in stone.”

“Right,” Tammy chuckled, “of course not. Thanks Deb.”

They all climbed the stairs together, the girls filtering into their respective rooms once they reached their floor. Debbie headed down the hall with Tammy and Rose, and they parted ways as Rose unlocked the room across from Debbie’s. Debbie watched with envy as the door closed behind the pair. Couldn’t she be in a room with one of them instead? She dug her key out of her pocket, but froze as she heard a mysterious laughter from the other side of her door. Only then did she realize that the door was only partly closed, and she nudged it open with her foot.

Lou was sat on the floor, surrounded by five baby faced freshmen, pointing a flashlight beneath her chin as she spoke in an ominous voice.

“The voodoo Gods have conferred, and they have decided upon names for you, the selected five,” she gestured wildly with the hand not holding the flashlight, drawing waves and patterns in the air.

The freshmen in front of her shivered, one particularly small girl shaking so violently that Debbie could see it from her position at the door. None of them seemed to have noticed her. Except for one girl, sitting directly next to Lou, a pillow case pulled over her head. She lifted it slightly, and Debbie was surprised to see Constance peeking out at her, wiggling her fingers in an excited wave. This was ‘the man’ she had gone to see? She pulled the pillow case down hurriedly, as Lou continued to speak.

“You,” Lou pointed at the first freshman in front of her, her voice firm yet tinged with laughter, “will be Mouth-breather.”

A stocky, wide-eyed freshman with braces looked at her in confusion.

“Say it!” Constance yelled from beneath the pillow case, pointing her own flashlight right into the eyes of the poor girl.

“Mouth-breather,” the girl repeated, sounding as if she was close to tears.

Lou continued down the line, affectionately dubbing the girls; “Plumb Peach,” “Countess of Stuttertown,” and “Nicole Kidman’s ghost.” She reached the final girl, the tiny one, the one who was shaking so hard she was nearly vibrating.

“And you, my child,” Lou looked to the ceiling, turning her eyes so far upwards that only the white part of her eye was visible. Then she looked back at the girl, smiling somewhat reassuringly. “You, the God’s have blessed with the name of a proper warrior.  _ Arachne _ .”

Constance, who was sat between Lou and the newly named ‘Arachne’, leaned in to stage whisper into the girl’s ear. “It means  _ spider _ .”

The girl looked incredibly pleased with herself suddenly, quite obviously thrilled to be the only out of the five to receive a somewhat cool name. All the others looked at her with envy, and Debbie worried they might try to bring her down because of their own ill fates.

“Together, you shall be…” Lou’s hands howered dramatically in the air, as if circling an invisible crystal ball, “the Favorable Five.”

“Commonly referred to as the Fave Five,” Constance nodded, what was no doubt a huge grin hidden behind her makeshift mask. The girls in front of them giggled excitedly. They had not only been allowed into the room of a senior girl on their very first day, they had been dubbed said senior girl’s favorite freshmen. So when Lou turned off her flashlight and grinned goodnaturedly at the five girls, Debbie was convinced she saw at least 2 of them swoon just the slightest. If Lou went out and fooled around with freshmen, she for sure was going to do something about it. They were  _ children _ .

Evidently, Lou made the exact same observations and decided enough was enough. She ushered the girls out of the room, bidding them goodnight and good luck, jokingly calling after them as they scurried down the hall, letting them know that if they slept in at least 3 layers of clothing, no evil spirits could get to them. Only then did she acknowledge Debbie, raising her brows as if challenging her to say something, right then and there.

Debbie was not about to stoop to her level though, refusing to get into a confrontation with an open door and an onlooker in the room. Said onlooker was pulling the pillowcase from her head and placing it neatly across the footrest of Debbie’s bed. With the look of someone who had been caught with their hands all the way into the figurative cookie jar, she pushed past Debbie and Lou, mumbling a quiet “night boss,” as she went.

That left Debbie and Lou alone by the door, standing at each their side of the doorway. Lou pulled the door closed. Once again she looked at Debbie as if she was expecting her to say something, but the words she desired never came. So instead she rolled her eyes and went to grab her robe from her dresser. With quiet steps made by bare feet she padded into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

It was as if Debbie breathed properly for the first time since entering her own room. She was not this person. Cold, aggressive and unpleasant was not a mask that suited her well. Yet it was the exterior she found herself presenting to Lou, the blonde girl infuriating her for reasons unknown. Some of her frustrations were perfectly explainable, while others remained a mystery concerning her inner emotions. Emotions she had never been that great at reaching.

As soon as she heard the sound of the water running from behind the bathroom door, she sat down at her desk and pulled out a worksheet she had gotten from Mr. Flick earlier. The silence in the room was more than just a little welcome. The assignment was only a few questions, and after filling them in and double checking with her notes from the lecture, she put her papers aside and leaned back in her chair with an audible sigh. Her eyes fell closed, the exhaustion from the overwhelming emotions she had felt throughout the day finally getting to her.

When the bathroom door swung open, she nearly fell out of her chair. The sound of Lou whistling some unknown tune penetrated her hazy mind, and she was abruptly brought back to the unfortunate reality she had found herself in. Spinning subtly in her chair, she watched Lou move around her side of the room languidly.

Stopping by the dresser. Smoothing her hair in the mirror, drops of water pitter-pattering against expensive wood. The soft cotton of her robe brushing against her bare ankles. Her untying her robe. Letting her robe fall to the floor. The expanse of her tall, slender figure. The dimples on her lower back. The black boy shorts that hugged her waist and behind ever so tenderly. The way she stretched as she pulled on a large, faded graphic t-shirt.

Why didn’t she just bring her clothes into the bathroom with her? Lou was far more athletic in build than Debbie had initially thought, her body much like that of an experienced fighter, defined and rough around the edges, yet with a feminine finish that accentuated her cat-like features. Who knew that there was a gorgeous body hidden beneath those unkempt clothes, and that slouching posture?

Debbie quickly turned her face away, her cheeks burning up, attempting to push the image of Lou’s nearly naked body out of her mind. She wanted to tell her that she usually changed  _ in _ the bathroom, so maybe she should too. It seemed childish. Speaking up would only alert Lou to the fact that she had been watching her, so she opted not to say anything at all.

There was silence between them for the remainder of the night. Lou, now clad in her own version of proper pajamas, sat on her bed to read one of her assignments, and Debbie took her turn in the shower, pointedly carrying her change of clothes into the bathroom with her. When she returned she curled up in bed with her own book to read, and after some time, realizing that Lou had put her things away and was lying there, simply staring at nothing, decided it might as well be time for bed. She set the book on her desk and leaned over to turn off the lamp, leaving the pair in total darkness. 

She lay there with her head on the pillow, not quite tired enough to fall asleep. She kept going over the troubling events of the day in her head, until she was interrupted by a noise, and then another, coming from the middle of the room. She heard the window being pushed open, creaking ever so slightly and bumping against the outer walls of the building. Then the sound of shuffled movements, a faint grunt, and finally, the ripping of a plastic wrapping.

Intrigued, she poked turned her head toward the sound. Lou was sat in the window, one leg on the windowsill and one on the floor. Her blonde hair swung around her face as she tore off the paper that constituted the final barrier between her and a cigarette.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Debbie shot up from her place in bed, turning on the light next to her bed.

“Smoking,” Lou regarded her as if she was no more than a faint blip on her radar, a slight inconvenience. Then she picked a cigarette from her pack, placed it between thin lips and lit it with the flick of her wrist.

“You can’t smoke in here,” Debbie said pointedly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and moving to stand.

“Why? Are you trying to quit or something?” the words were muffled as Lou exhaled, smoke licking at the sharp contour of her face.

“No.”

“You want one then?”

“I don’t smoke,” Debbie said, approaching Lou, “you can’t do it here because it’s against school policies.”

“You better turn the lights off then, draws less attention to us,” Lou nodded towards the bedside table, and Debbie switched the lamp off.

“Less attention to  _ you _ ,” she seethed, “it’s not my problem at all.”

“Then why’d you turn out the light?”

She was left stumped at that, and for a brief second even considered turning the light back on in defiance.

“Why are you smoking anyways? That shit’ll kill you,” a change of subject seemed her best option, as she moved closer to the window, before finally leaning against the space in the windowsill that wasn’t occupied by Lou’s long limbs.

“Stress relief,” Lou shrugged. In the moonlight, her hair appeared almost completely white, a ring of light surrounding her pale face. She looked ethereal, otherworldly. Void of any jewelry, she looked lighter, younger, and a lot more depleted. As if the world had put her through the worst of it. 

“You, stressed?” Debbie huffed, chuckling humorlessly, “you couldn’t come up with anything better?”

“Maybe I am stressed.”

“And maybe I’m the queen of England.”

Lou looked at her incredulously, as if she was seeing her for the first time. And maybe she was, because Debbie somehow didn’t feel completely bitter at the intrusion to her room anymore, and had even joked around with the person she had declared the worst part of her year a matter of hours ago. And maybe it has something to do with the way Lou’s large ACDC t-shirt fell below her shoulder, revealing milky white skin dotted with a constellation of freckles. And maybe it has nothing to do with any of that whatsoever.

Really, she might just feel bad because she only just now notices the way Lou’s eyes are red and puffy, faint traces of mascara lingered on her cheeks. The smirk that had plagued Debbie all day is gone, not a trace of it left. She looks utterly defeated.

“I’m sorry, you know,” Debbie tries, “I shouldn’t have said those things. I wasn’t expecting a roommate and I overreacted. I’ll try not to be like that anymore, I know it wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you’d pick another roommate if you had the option.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Lou shifts, and her voice is raw in a way Debbie hadn’t heard before.

Debbie stood there uncomfortable, unsure if the conversation was over now. For good measure, she puts her hand on Lou’s leg, patting her shin awkwardly.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, preparing to push away.

“It’s not just… I mean, I’m not stressed out by you,” Lou spoke, pulling Debbie back in involuntarily.

She couldn’t go back to her own bed, not wanting to seem cold-hearted.

“What is it then? Your family?” she recalled being told that Nine Ball hadn’t been willing to share what she had figured out about the newcomer, and found herself curious, against her better judgement.

“Something like that…” Lou said, inhaling once more. “My mom just got back together with her old boyfriend, and I had to get away. A family friend pulled some strings, got me over here. I didn’t want this, not for my last god damn year. I barely had the chance to say goodbye to my friends, before they flew me here.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie said again. She had never been good with these types of conversations, especially not when having them with people she’d known for less than 24 hours. “I wouldn’t want to change schools at the last minute either.”

How had Lou been accepted so late? The school was hard to get into and in high demand. What family friend would be able to get her in on such short notice? And why? What had Lou done to merit such a chance?

“It’s not all bad thought,” she reasoned, “I go here voluntarily. If it was a terrible place, I’d have up and left after the first year. But I stayed for all four. Most of the girls don’t suck too bad, you’ll find your crowd.”

Just as long as it wasn’t hers. She’d have to have a serious talk with Constance tomorrow.

“I know,” Lou exhaled loudly, smoke escaping from her nostrils and her slightly parted lips. “It was just… unexpected. Unwelcome.”

“Right,” Debbie nodded, looking out at the grounds, damp grass and fading leaves illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. “A school year isn’t that long either. You’ll survive it.”

“I’ve survived worse.”

It was said so casually, but Debbie was nothing if not good at reading other people. Although Lou was an exceptionally tough case, there was no mistaking the tone of her voice for anything but bitterness. Anger and hurt lay behind that simple statement, and Debbie ached to know what Lou had suffered through. Not that it was any of her business. Asking her would surely only lead to more trouble.

“At least you’ll get a good education,” Debbie tried once more. “Ridgeview looks good on any college application.”

“Great, I don’t really care, princess. I just want to go anywhere else.”

Debbie furrowed her brows and pushed away from the window, standing a few feet from Lou. “You’ve already decided it’s the worst thing that’s happened to you. At least give it a chance.”

“Yeah, like you did when you saw me in your room, right?”

They glared at each other in the darkness for a moment. Unrelenting.

“I’m moving on, so should you,” Debbie replied, turning and walking back to her side of the room. “Go to bed and get over it.”

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Lou said, voice muffled as she turned to look out the window once more. “I doubt you’re that hard to get over.”

“Fuck off,” Debbie huffed as she slipped back under the sheets in a huff. She lay awake for some time before she finally managed to get to sleep, all too aware of Lou’s presence by the window, and the concerning speed with which she had gotten under Debbie’s skin. Her first day back at school hadn’t gone anything like she’d imagined.


	2. She's Like Art. Terrible art. But Still, Art.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will bring us a little further in a few ways, but I won't tell you how here, because that wouldn't be very nice of me. The burn is still going strong, hope you can handle it.
> 
> Also, there are descriptions of sexual activity in this chapter, so beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be patient.
> 
> I said it once, I say it again. This is a slooooow burn. But we'll get there, promise.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who commented on the previous chapter, it warms my heart and motivates me to get stuff done! Also, sorry it took a bit to update this chapter, I've been on vacation and I spent 75% of my time in a swimming pool, 20% exploring Italy, and 5% writing this.

Debbie awoke the next morning, feeling strangely anxious. For a minute she was confused as to why, but then she recalled her rooming situation, and the confrontation that had taken place the night before. She turned over and sat up in bed, only to find that the bed across the room was empty. The bathroom was vacant as well, the door standing wide open on its hinges. Maybe she ran away, seeing as she hated the place so much. Then she realized with a glance at the clock that she was running behind schedule.

 She cursed herself for forgetting to set her alarm last night, and Lou for not waking her, and jumped up to get ready for school with only fifteen minutes until class started. She quickly left the dorm with her schoolbag swung across her shoulder in a rush, heading to the cafeteria, when she noticed two people out in the courtyard. There was Lou, with the biology teacher Mr. Flood, kneeling together in the garden. Debbie stared in confusion as she passed, until she remembered that it wasn’t just Mrs. Cartier that had given Debbie detention. This must have been the other one, although serving it didn’t seem so bad.

 Lou and Mr. Flood were plating flowers together, the teacher seeming to be in his element, while Lou followed along. She looked happy, laughing at something Mr. Flood said and with dirt up to her elbows. A velvet blazer was thrown aside on the grass, and her sleeves were rolled up as she dug in the dirt with her hands. Lou looked up from the flowerbed and spotted Debbie watching her, but Debbie quickly turned her had and hurried into the dining hall without looking back.

She stayed just long enough to spread some cream cheese on a stale bagel left behind in the bread basket by the breakfast buffet. Then she headed back out across the lawn to the academic building with bagel in hand. In the time she had been in the cafeteria, Lou had gone, presumably to her first class, leaving Mr. Flood alone to clean up.

Gardening first thing in the morning seemed pleasant enough, if that were your thing. Debbie would personally have hated to get dirt under her nails like that, and being on her knees just to plant some meaningless flowers.

Debbie found herself wondering what sort of punishment Mrs. Cartier had in mind for the same violation. Somehow, Debbie didn’t think it would be as painless as the gentle Mr. Flood’s idea.

She made her way into the building, heading to the lecture hall for the Advanced Mathematics class, taught by a close friend of her father’s, Mr. Maddox. Within the Ocean’s 7, he was better known as Mad Dog.

It was no wonder the course needed such a big classroom, for when she arrived, it seemed half the senior class had been assigned this morning slot. They had most likely heard about the teacher’s eccentric personality, and had decided to see for themselves now that they had the option. Debbie had seen enough of his shenanigans at various parties hosted by her father to know that it would surely make for an entertaining class.

There were barely any seats left open, but she spotted Tammy and Constance waving to her from above it all, on the top row of the lecture hall. She grinned, relieved, and climbed the steps, making her way over to join them.

“Thanks Tam-Tam,” she whispered, slipping into the seat that had been saved for her.

“Alright pups, let’s get started,” Mad Dog growled as he rose from the teacher’s desk down below. His words were slurred as he made his way through a couple easy formulas and useful shortcuts. While it was common knowledge that he was a blithering drunk, it was also said that he was an excellent teacher despite it. Debbie was quite the mathematical person, and was glad that she was able to sign up for the class and that it fit within the schedule that she wanted to create for herself.

Having a class with two of her best friends didn’t hurt either. From the corner of her eye she was Tammy scribble down something on a sheet of paper and pass it over.

 _How was the first night with the new roomie?_ she wrote, her handwriting delicate and swirling upon the note paper.

Debbie considered giving a dismissive answer, but she realized that talking about it truthfully might make her feel a little better.

 _Not great,_ she wrote back. _We sort of fought, she smoked to relieve stress. Not in that order, I wasn’t the reason she was stressed. She was complaining, and then we got a little mad at each other. I barely saw her this morning._

She looked around at the other students in the class as she passed the paper back to Constance, wondering if Lou was registered in this class too, but she didn’t see her down below.

“Now, let’s say your rent costs x amount to start,” Mad Dog bellowed from the front of the room, writing an equation on the board, “but I, your ever gracious landlord, decided I was going to raise your rent the amount of y per month for every year this month, due to the incessant chatting and moaning coming from your humble abode…” Debbie was hardly paying attention as she forced down the rest of her breakfast.

When the note came back to her, Constance’s childish scrawl was beneath her own. **_Smoking, huh? Did things get that hot after I left?_ **

Debbie blinked rapidly, and then leaned in to glare at Constance on the other side of Tammy, certain she was implying exactly what Debbie thought she was implying.

 _Ignore demon spawn over there,_ Tammy had continued below Constance’s comments. _I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you guys make up with each other, cause it’ll only get worse if you don’t speak. Talk it out, and try not to ignore her. She seems the type to go to drastic measures to get what she wants. You guys will be so much happier if you can learn to enjoy each other’s company._

Debbie sighed and picked her pencil up once more. _I don’t know if ‘enjoy’ is a point we’ll manage to get to, but I guess I can try to be civil. Promise._

Tammy smiled at her when Debbie passed her the note. “Good,” she whispered, a faint smile on her lips.

Constance stole the paper again. **_What did you guys fight about though?_ **

_The school. She hates it here, apparently. I tried to defend it, she got mad and overly dramatic tbh._ Debbie couldn’t write the last bit without a pang of guilt. ‘Dramatic’ was the word that came to mind when she remembered herself marching down to the principal’s office yesterday.

 _It was only her first day,_ Tammy wrote back. _She needs time to adjust to her new surroundings. She’ll find something to like about this place, eventually._

 **_Maybe even you, if you’re nice!_ ** Constance added.

Debbie frowned. She had _tried_ to be nice… okay, well maybe she had lost her patience too quickly, she allowed. Her friends were probably well aware of what had happened. She raised her brows dubiously in Constance’s direction, the girl merely meeting her gaze with a wide grin and a hopeful tilt of her head. Debbie relented, nodding conclusively in her direction before pretending to concentrate on the lesson for the rest of the period. It proved no easy feet, seeing as Mad Dog had abandoned all traces of math and was instead going on about his college roommate, who had evidently stolen every girlfriend he had ever had, and had yet to pay for his ‘crimes’.

Next, Debbie had English with none other than Mad Dog’s sister, a tentative little woman named Mae. It was not uncommon for people to refer to her by her first name, seeing as she insisted upon a close personal relationship with every single student, personally ensuring no one left her class in any obvious distress. She was known to have an obsession with the romantic, so Debbie was unsurprised when she assigned them their first book of the year, _Wuthering Heights._

After lunch, it was Psychology with Mr. Gabriel, who was a sweet, knowledgeable, elderly man, and someone Debbie was quite familiar with seeing as he lived on the grounds. Last and least though, Debbie headed to the class she had been dreading the most, more intimidated by far than she had ever been before.

She hadn’t wanted to take art. At all. She had zero talent on the visual spectrum, her skills were better placed in speechcraft. But there were no other electives she could choose without ruining the rest of her schedule choices, and she far preferred to keep Psychology and French, practical classes for an aspiring criminal. What compounded the problem though was this was _senior_ art. All the other kids would have taken it since freshman year, and she would probably be the only one who had no clue whatsoever what she was doing.

She left the academic building and entered the fine arts building, a place she hadn’t spent much time in during her stay at the school. She had enjoyed music classes as a freshman, after figuring out that she was terrible at playing the cello, and that paying off another freshman to pretend to be her was far easier than actually showing up. Now she was returning, only to enter a classroom she had never been in before.

Standing in the doorway, she looked around hesitantly. The windows and skylights kept the art room bright with daylight, much more than the dimmed classrooms in the academic building. Sketches and paintings from last year’s students, too careless to take them home, were still hung upon the walls. There were easels arranged in a circle, but the students waiting for class to begin were seated at the big tables on the other side of the room.

Scanning each face in the search of someone familiar, she didn’t spot any of her friends. Not that she was expecting anyone else to have gotten stuck in the class with her. She knew Rose took the class, but was in another time slot. When she was just about to think up a possible escape plan, she spotted a mess of blonde hair, a student leaned back in her chair and balancing precariously on the two back legs of her chair, sitting by herself. It was Lou.

Lou seemed to sense Debbie’s eyes on her, for she sat up and met her gaze, lighting up as if it was a pleasant surprise to see her. Letting her chair drop back onto all four legs, she waved her over. Debbie checked her other options, but she wasn’t more than acquaintances with the rest of the art kids, and sitting with Lou seemed the least awkward solution.

She joined her, noticing as she slipped onto a chair across from Lou, that each table was set with a bowl of fake fruit. Their table had a bunch of purple grapes and some quite realistic looking pears in their bowl, and an empty wine bottle set beside it. Debbie stared at the objects, reiterating in his mind how unnecessary this class was to her future.

“So we’re on speaking terms?” she asked, looking up at Lou.

“Were we not?” Lou cocked her head, puzzled. Yet there was a glimmer of understanding in her eyes, a challenge for Debbie to tell her the opposite.

“I didn’t know, seeing as how we left things off last night.”

“Oh, screw that,” Lou said, waving her hand dismissively, jewelry swaying to and fro, “I’ve got bigger fish to fry. I’ve got a plan, actually.”

“Hm?” Debbie responded, raising an eyebrow. She rarely heard others make plans, used to being the mastermind behind most brilliant ideas.

“I was thinking-”

But Lou was cut off as the art teacher, Miss Masters, entered with a flourish. “Welcome back everyone,” she said pleasantly as he inspected his class. Her loose garments flowed through the air as she lifted her arms in glee. “Except for you two,” she added, “you are new.”

Miss Masters stared straight at Lou and Debbie, an excited grin on her mouselike features.

Debbie felt much like she had as a child, when her parents had let her stay downstairs, provisionally, during a dinner party. If she was good, she could stay, and Debbie had been so nervous, praying she appeared grown up enough to the rest of the guests. Danny had always been able to charm every and all of her father’s friends, but it had taken Debbie years to realize she was very much capable of the same thing.

Knowing she didn’t belong in this class, she hoped she wouldn’t be sent away for having the skill level of a toddler. At least Lou was new too, and there was a chance she was feeling just as lost - even if her face showed no such concerns.

Miss Masters told them to retrieve art boards and paper from the cabinets, and drawing pencils and erasers from the drawers below them.

“I realize some of you may be a little rusty after a summer away, so I wanted you to flex your lovely artistic muscles again, with a simple still life. That way we can also see how our wonderful, new students fair artistically,” she said, grinning smugly in their direction. “We will have a brief critique at the end of class. Now go to work, my merry little elves!”

“I hate still lifes,” Lou grumbled as they sat back down with their artboards. “they’re completely lacking in action and creativity.”

Debbie frowned, puzzled. “I’m a little out of practice,” she said, attempting to sound casual as she watched Lou drag her pencil lazily across the paper in front of her, “but I personally don’t mind a good… still life.”

She had to search her brain for the accurate term, embarrassed that she had nearly forgotten already. Getting a hang of this class was going to take more work than she was prepared to do for something she had deemed so irrelevant.

Lou grew increasingly more invested in the picture in front of her, arm moving in wide circles with her pencil. Debbie wished she could spy on her, but they were sitting across the table from each other and had opposite views of the still life anyway.

“So what were you going to tell me before?” she asked.

“Oh,” Lou said, pausing mid-pencil stroke. “These detentions got me thinking. It’s an easy solution really. I can solve both our problems, one quick fix.”

“How so?” Debbie mused, feeling slightly guilty as she realized what problem Lou was thinking she had. She had accepted Lou’s presence in her room, at least partly. It wasn’t a problem per se.

“I just need to keep doing stupid shit, and get myself in more and more trouble, until they kick me out for poor behavior,” Lou grinned, quite clearly thinking herself a genius. “That way, I can get away from here, and you can have your room to yourself again.”

“That’s _absurd_ ,” Debbie stared wide-eyed, the brief feeling that they may be reaching a sense of camaraderie melting away.

“What? I figured it would suit you quite nicely. We get out of each other’s hair, we’re both happy. Bada bing, bada boom, all is good and right in the world.”

“Yeah, sure, but you can’t just get yourself into trouble because you don’t want to be here! That’s ridiculous.” Debbie wasn’t quite sure why she was objecting so fiercely, but felt compelled to try and convince Lou to change her mind.

Lou looked down again, focusing her eyes on her drawing as she continued drawing swift lines. “I mean, I wouldn’t be a bad person or nothing. I could just stop going to class, or fail all my classes. I bet you know some expulsion stories, what kind of hot messes do you have to get into to get yourself out of here?" 

Brown locks swung around in the corner of her vision as she sighed in exasperation and shook her head. She knew some gossip about the kids who had previously been expelled, certainly. She had eyes and ears all over the school, obeying her every word as long as their service was paid for. Yet she wasn’t about to give Lou any hints.

“Look, some kids at this place are here, even though they should have been canned a long time ago. It isn’t that easy.”

“I don’t do easy,” Lou lifted her head and smirked wickedly, “I like myself a challenge.”

“Shut up,” another exasperated sigh, followed closely by a barely there blush, “and don’t think you can get away with some drawn out scheme. The administration isn’t run by idiots.”

“Speaking of drawing,” Lou drawled, nodding towards Debbie’s paper, “you’re not.”

Debbie deflated a little, looking back at her sparsely decorated paper. Anything she did more was sure to ruin it. She slowly put her pencil to the page and drew a squishy circle, deciding that drawing the grapes complete may be the easiest part. Perhaps she could disguise her poor talent by drawing a bunch of circles in a big cluster.

“You know,” Lou spoke up again, “I’m a little surprised you’re so against the idea, given your inspirational talk yesterday.”

“My what now?”

“The one where you told me to stop poisoning myself, and said that a situation is what you make of it. That cute shit, remember?” blue eyes twinkled with mirth.

“I didn’t say any of that.”

“Well shit, I know that, princess,” Lou rolled her eyes, and it nearly felt like she was stealing Debbie’s moves. “But you bloody well said something like it. And it just so happens I am constructing a plan to make my situation much better than it already is.”

“By quitting?” Debbie questioned.

“Quitting seems a harsh term,” Lou frowned, tapping her pencil against the edge of the table. “I’d rather you call it; fulfilling my destiny. I figured you’d be into that.”

“You’re totally twisting my words, asshole. I didn’t propose anything that stupid.”

“No, no, no, princess.” Lou chuckled. “You failed to realize that that was exactly what you were proposing.”

“Why are we arguing about this anyways?” Debbie groaned, “get yourself kicked out then. See if I care.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Shut up,” Debbie twists her pencil between her fingers, clenching her teeth. “I don’t care if you go ahead and act like an ass to get yourself kicked out, if you so badly want to leave the one place that could potentially be the single most classy place you’ve ever been. Just don’t do any stupid shit in our room.”

“Our room.”

“Oh yeah, and don’t spend the night feeling sorry for yourself and whining like a child again,” Debbie couldn’t help but add, glaring at her. “I was trying to sleep.”

Lou’s eyes flashed with anger, and Debbie could tell she had struck a nerve. But instead of forming a reply, Lou’s mouth tightened and she looked back to her drawing, scribbling determinedly on her paper in silence.

Debbie set her face in an expression of indifference and returned to her drawing, but in her mind she couldn’t help but remember the note Tammy had written that morning. _I hope you guys make up with each other, cause it’ll only get worse if you don’t speak. Talk it out, and try not to ignore her._ It seemed too late for that now, especially considering she hadn’t made much effort to be nice, like she had promised. But she also hadn’t expected Lou’s ridiculous plan for expulsion, which only proved to her how she couldn’t possibly get along with her. Why would she stop her anyways? She’d get to be alone if she succeeded. 

Yet somehow, she felt compelled to stand up against such a poor life decision. An expulsion on permanent record from a school like Ridgeview, right before any college applications Lou may make, would be any student’s worst nightmare. Not that Lou seemed the college type, though. She appeared more likely to pursue a career as a pimp or a seedy nightclub owner.

Debbie concentrated on her drawing for the remainder of class, struggling through the still life as she scratched lines onto her paper. She kept looking up at the display on the table, biting her lip and hoping that somehow her hand would magically recreate what her eyes were seeing. But she could only manage a shaky line drawing, certain that she had drawn the wine bottle much to small, and the grapes far too big for the bowl.

With twenty minutes until the end of the period, Miss Masters rose from her desk, fabric flowing in some invisible breeze, and pointed to the wall. “Hang up your drawings, and we’ll see where we are.”

They all stood up, and Debbie watched in dismay as the other students put up their work. As she expected, the were far better than the chicken scratch she had produced on her paper, and she kept her own drawing tightly in her first, wondering is she could somehow abstain from the critique. 

And then, Lou breezed past her and pinned her drawing to the wall, effectively covering the better part of two other girls’ drawings, and Debbie stared, her heart dropping into her stomach as she stood there in shock, before easing right into anger. Lou had the best still life in the class by far, which was surprising in the first place, but not the part that angered her. Lou had apparently grown bored with the food, and moved on to drawing Debbie sitting across the table from her, and what she had made was none too flattering. She had rendered in fine detail Debbie sitting there like an idiot, biting her lip and looking lost. Her features had been exaggerated greatly, making her out like a cartoon figure from the back of the New York Times. Out of context, it even looked like she was staring at the food like a helpless puppy, waiting for someone to permit her to eat. A small dialogue balloon over her head read “help! I don’t know what I’m doing!”, as if Lou knew from the other side of the table that Debbie had been desperately struggling to draw.

Debbie fought against a heavy blush, but by the heat in her cheeks she could tell she was failing horribly. She clutched her own drawing tight in her hands, crumpling it.

“Oh my!” Miss Masters said with excitement as she came over and Saw Lou’s standing out among the others. “How fun!”

She then noticed Debbie standing there frozen, paper in hand. “No, no, they must all go up!” she insisted.

Debbie swallowed her infamous Ocean’s pride, and walked to the board, pinning the wrinkled paper under the others in resignation. As she turned to join the crowd again, she saw the teacher’s grim expression and the smirks the other students were exchanging.

“Let’s… start over here, shall we?” Miss Masters suggested, pointing to one of the other student’s pieces on the opposite end. She proceeded to intertwine her hands across her chest as she began going over each piece. Debbie sullenly stared at the floor as the rest of the class spoke, commenting on crosshatching and tone, and a whirl of other terms Debbie had never heard before.When she reached Lou’s, she praised her for creativity, skill, and speed.

“I prefer drawing figures, really,” Lou said with what was surely false modesty, her eyes travelling over Debbie’s body almost imperceptibly.

“Oh, how lovely. Perhaps in the coming semester we will concentrate on the figure. One thing though,” Miss Masters said, pointing to the dialogue balloon Lou had made. “This piece would be better without this sort of joking around. More serious next time, yes?”

“Sorry miss,” Lou said, smirking as she lowered her head. Debbie hated her.

“Now…” Miss Masters stared down at Debbie’s paper, seeming unsure what to say. Finally, she turned to Debbie. “Debbie, was it? Tell me, sweetie, are you sure you wish to be in this class?”

Debbie’s heart sank. She had never felt so incapable before. “No, I _don’t_ want to be in this class,” she said defiantly, “but you best believe I’m going to be. I’m not an artist and I’ve never taken an art class, and I sure as hell don’t know how to do any of this. Yet, here I am.”

She stared determinedly at Miss Masters, almost hoping she would use her teacher’s clout to put put her in some other course, somehow.

But Miss Masters simply grew annoyed, tilting her head at Debbie’s response. “I see. Well, perhaps more effort next time instead of all of this attitude,” she said, gesturing to Debbie’s rigid posture.

Debbie’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. She _had_ made an effort.

“Now, your work is clearly a product of your lack of confidence. Look at these lines. Nervous, they’re _nervous_ , I’m nervous just _looking_ at them. And I feel as if you were not even looking at what you were drawing.”

It seemed it was in her best interest not to respond, so Debbie pursed her lips and raised her brows in challenge.

“I mean, do you think this looks what’s on the table? The grapes are not supposed to be this shape. You drew what you think of when you are told the word ‘grapes’, you did not arrange them as they are.”

Debbie was confused. They’re just grapes, why does it matter so much?

“And this bottle. It is two-dimensional on your paper.”

It’s a drawing, of course it would be two-dimensional.

“You drew it flat. It is not flat. You can see more than one side of it, can you not?” Miss Masters continued irritably, as if Debbie had drawn badly on purpose. “I trust your depth perception is functioning correctly.”

“I-”

“The bottom of your bottle is a flat line. The bottle is round, a cylinder. Did you pass geometry class?”

“I did.” Debbie spoke, angry tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“And this-”

“Excuse me, miss,” Lou piped up, interrupting Miss Masters. “Perhaps Debbie’s intent was to create modern art.”

Half the class snickered behind her. “She was going for an abstract interpretation. The lack of perspective _really_ represents the flat, distorted nature of our reality. The shaky lines are meant to create a feeling of unease, the feeling we students feel everyday, oppressed by the cruel forces of academia.” 

The whole class was laughing now, and Debbie was fuming. The bell rang, and she didn’t wait to be dismissed. She broke from the rest of the group, grabbing her bag and all but running from the room. Instead of heading for the front entrance of the fine arts building, she went out the back, wanting to be alone where no one could see her. Outside behind the arts building was a straight path leading towards the lack, and Debbie ran down it, dust flying up to her ankles as her feet pounded against the fine gravel. When she reached the edge of the water she collapsed, falling to her knees with a huff. She sniffled, pressing her hands against her cheeks, still burning with embarrassment. She had never felt like an incompetent student before, and she had to admit it was quite a horrible feeling. This year was already turning out worse than she ever could have imagined, and being a senior was supposed to be-

Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard footsteps padding in the long grass behind her. She looked up and saw Lou ascending the soft slope. “Jesus christ,” she exclaimed, turning her heads to look over the soft ripples in the surface of the lake. “Can you not leave me alone?”

Much to Debbie’s displeasure, Lou continued towards her, picking up the bag Debbie had discarded in her hurry to escape.

“You know, you didn’t have to humiliate me in front of everyone,” she spat.

“And you didn’t have to be a total bitch,” Lou rolled her eyes, “yet here we are.”

“If I’m such a bitch, then why’d you follow me out here?”

“I told you earlier, didn’t I?” Lou sat down in the grass beside her, “I like a challenge.”

She had, in fact, told Debbie that earlier. The implications of those words just hadn’t quite hit her that first time. But now Lou was uncomfortably close, and she smelled like cinnamon and cigarette smoke, an enticing cocktail that reminded Debbie of christmas back home.

“Why’d you have to draw me like that?” she sighed.

“Like what?” Lou shrugged. “That’s what you looked like, darling.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“Okay, well, you did and do look like that, whatever majestic perception you have of yourself,” Lou was not backing down, and it was infuriating.

“So you’re saying I look like a fucking idiot?”

“A beautiful idiot.”

“And I suppose you saw _beautiful_ words floating above my head too?” she didn’t acknowledge the pleasure she felt at Lou’s compliment, her lingering anger overshadowing any and all other emotions.

“Of course,” Lou smirked at her, head tilting as she regarded her. “I had to make you human somehow.”

“So now I’m not even human?” that statement somehow hurt, although Debbie had always prided herself on her ability to disconnect and distance herself from unwanted emotions. Being completely honest, she had already been more emotional in the short time she had known Lou, than she had for most of her life. The blonde brought out something in her she hadn’t been comfortable facing for a long time.

“Of course you are, darling,” Lou placed her hand on her knee, and Debbie was surprised to find she didn’t flinch. “You just hide it very well.”

“As if you’re not a cold hearted bitch,” she mumbled, looking down at the fingers gently clutching her knee.

“I think we’ve established I’m not,” Lou’s expression was grim, her lids fluttering as she too looked to her own hand, extracting it slowly.

Debbie grabbed for Lou’s hand before she could hide it away in her pocket, moving it to rest between them. She let her own hand fall on top of it, her fingertips brushing against the calloused skin of Lou’s knuckles. A look of utter confusion breezed across Lou’s features, before settling back into a confident mask.

“You know, I could help you with your drawing if you want,” she spoke softly, watching the water ripple as a butterfly dipped its feet briefly.

“Forget it,” Debbie scoffed, scandalized. She wasn’t a girl that needed tutoring. She was the kind of girl who tutored others - except she didn’t, seeing as the thought of wasting time on the less gifted seemed gratuitous. “I don’t need to see you anymore than I already have to.”

“Shame,” Lou smirked, lifting her fingers to remind Debbie of the position of their hands. “I have an offer for you though. A little _business_ offer, actually.”

“Business? With you?” Debbie’s brows flew into her hairline. “You’re getting yourself expelled, remember?”

“Oh well, I might not afterall. There might be things worth staying for,” Lou mumbled, before turning to look Debbie in the eye. “Besides, if you like my idea, I’d _have_ to stay.”

“What is this brilliant idea of yours then?” Debbie gave in.

Lou glanced to the watch on her wrist, the one that was concealed partly by a string of worn down leather, and the silver of a chain link bracelet.

“I would love to, princess,” she rose to her feet, pulling her hand from beneath Debbie’s. “But I have a bit of a prior engagement coming up.”

“ _Now_?”

“Yes, now,” Lou smirked, quite obviously revelling in the whiny tone of Debbie’s voice. It was stark contrast to the anger that usually tinged their conversations, and they both knew it.

“Okay,” Debbie rose too, “I have to go anyways. Tryouts for the soccer team are starting soon.”

“You,” Lou pointed at her, brows raising, “play soccer?”

Her tone was full of doubt, and Debbie thought it might be well warranted. She didn’t appear to have the enthusiasm and team spirit of any student athlete, and it was with good reason. She found she only needed to contribute to a team of her own choosing, instead of one that was composed of several unwanted nuisances.

“No,” she answered testily. “I’m going to watch and support my friends. Some of them are trying out, and my friend Tammy is the captain. She’s the one in the room across the hall from ours.”

“Huh,” Lou nodded thoughtfully. “Not surprised you two are friends. She’s a real looker, that Tammy. Shame she’s so uptight.”

“She’s not uptight. She’s just doesn’t make time for unnecessary distractions. Especially not those in red chelsea boots and tacky jewelry.”

She wasn’t entirely sure why she was getting so defensive. Tammy was her best friend, sure, but she was known to give her a hard time herself. Somehow, Lou’s words had annoyed her, something the blonde girl had proved incredibly skilled at accomplishing.

“No need to get jealous, darling.”

“I’m not. Try out for the team if you want, but don’t get your hopes up,” she rolled her eyes.

“Nah, soccer isn’t my physical activity of choice. I’m much better with my hands.”

Debbie shot her a look, unsure what she meant. She was so used to Constance’s dirty jokes she could have been hearing things that weren’t there. Then again, Lou had proved herself equally inappropriate on previous occasions.

“Right,” she nodded slowly. “I’ll be seeing you then. Back at the room. You can go now.”

With a note of finality she turned on her heel, making her way along the water towards the soccer field. Looking back over her shoulder, she hoped to find Lou staring after her, perhaps a little hopeless or confused. Instead, she was met with the sight of Lou’s velvet clad back, hips swaying with all the sexual energy of a 50’s male moviestar. Nothing like the boys and girls she had left behind before. It was infuriating. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

On the soccer field, all the hopefuls were gathering onto the field, mixing with the players that had played last year and seemed confident that they would maintain their place on the squad. The sun beat down on them, highlighting the gold embroidery on their jerseys.

Debbie was glad to sit down beside Amita as the group of girls began warming up.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she said with relief as she joined her friend on the bench.

“Oh?” Amita smiled, but then frowned. “Are you alright? You look a little… frazzled.”

Her dart from the arts building was sure to have messed up her hair a bit, sure, but Debbie was sure she didn’t look _that_ bad. It shouldn’t be too obvious that she had lived through quite an eventful day already. Then again, her conversation with Lou had left her confused and frustrated, and it hadn’t occurred to her that those emotions might be quite noticeable as they dominated her features. Not to mention, Amita knew her nearly as well as Tammy did, and read her quite easily.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m fine,” she said quickly with a distracted smile. “What do you think, is Constance going to make the team?”

“Maybe,” Amita said, still curious as to what Debbie was hiding, but she appeared to let it slide. “Not sure Tammy really wants her on the team she’s scared she won’t take it seriously. But she’s not bad. Daphne, though…”

She gave a pained smile.

“Oh god, who let Daphne out on the field?” Debbie asked pityingly, searching around for her. She was sitting on the grass stretching, looking entirely unhappy with being on the ground.

“She wanted to try, bless her heart.”

Debbie spotted Constance, kicking a ball around with the freshman she recognized from the night before, the one they had dubbed Nicole Kidman’s ghost. She also saw Plumb Peach and Mouth-Breather, and had to admit that they did look like their shared experiences with the pair of eccentric seniors had brought them into a close friendship. Although, they were both struggling with their soccer balls, repeatedly tripping as they attempted to dribble with flair.

“Do you think Tammy will let those two on the team?” she pointed the two goons out to Amita, who laughed.

“No way,” she shook her head. “Not only do they suck, they’re freshmen.”

The pair chuckled, bathing in their seniority. While it was a bittersweet fact to be a senior, the power that came with it was undeniably sweet. 

“Hey, where’s Nine Ball?” Debbie asked, realizing the girl hadn’t shown up to support Tammy as she had promised.

“Uhm, well…” Amita looked at her hands, seemingly reluctant to continue. “She had to go meet someone.”

“ _Someone_?”

“Lou.”

Debbie’s brows rose in confusion, as she regarded Amita to see if she was joking. What was it with Lou and slowly gaining ground with her friends? First Constance, now Nine Ball? Sure, Debbie hadn’t told them they couldn’t hang out with her, but she had made it clear that she was definitely not a fan of the newcomer.

“Really?”

As if the uttering of her name had summoned her, Nine Ball came tumbling around the end of the bleachers, shouting after someone over her shoulder.

“You owe me one, Miller!”

She looked up from her schoolbag, where she was busy stuffing something inside it. She grinned at the sight of Debbie and Amita and scurried towards them. She planted herself on the other side of Debbie, throwing her bag at her feet. Her eyes were red, and she smelled like a little more than just regular smoke.

“You look happy,” Amita commented, wiggling her brows at the other girl.

“Shit’s all good, yeah,” Nine Ball nodded thoughtfully, still smiling. “It’s been a chill afternoon.”

“Well, speaking of, um, certain situations. Did you get a chance to make up with Lou?” Amita looked to Debbie once more, biting her lower lip.

“God, let’s not talk about it,” Debbie groaned, leaning back so that her elbows were resting against the row of seats behind them. “I can’t figure her out. She’s getting herself kicked out anyways, so I should just stop trying.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know either. It doesn’t matter Amita, I don’t want to think about her,” she looked at Amita’s concerned expression and sighed. “Look, we can talk about it later. Just not now, okay? Let’s just say, everything that’s gone wrong so far, has been her fault. Let’s just pretend she doesn’t exist for a bit.”

It must’ve been odd for the girls. Debbie was aware that she had never expressed such obvious dislike for any individual before, despite having met plenty of unpleasant people. Amita looked surprised and shocked, unsure how to react. Nine Ball, however, looked unfazed. It was possible she was too high to fully comprehend Debbie’s sudden pouring of emotion, or maybe she just didn’t care.

“I like her,” she spoke softly, looking out at the soccer field.

Amita looked to her as if pleading with her to keep her mouth shut, but it was of no use.

“She’s cool as hell, man,” the girl continued, turning to look at Debbie this time. “I don’t get why you don’t like her. Chick’s got jokes.”

“I don’t-”

“She’s hot too.” she cut Debbie off, returning her scrutinizing gaze towards the players on the field. When she spotted Daphne, she snorted. “Who let Diva down there?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Tryouts were nothing short of a fiasco. Fifteen minutes in, Daphne had either an asthma attack or a panic attack, no one was quite sure, and had to be escorted away to the nurse. The two freshmen girls continued to trip over the ball, and tripped several other hopefuls in the process. Constance showed off how quickly she could dart across the field, but got hit in the head with a ball after a mighty kick from one of the more experienced players. She did somehow head the ball into the goal in the process though, before proceeding to fall over.

At the end of tryouts, Tammy lined them all up again, going down the line and making her selection. It was no surprise that Constance made the team, seeing as she had scored two _intentional_ goals, before the third one that sent her scurrying for an ice pack. Nine Ball hurried to her feet to applaud her, while Amita and Debbie cheered from their seats. The rest of the players picked appeared to be girls that had played the previous year too, and only a single freshman was welcomed to the team. Nicole Kidman’s ghost apparently knew how to kick a ball around, and Constance embraced her playfully as she joined the final group. 

The players began to dissipate, the disappointed students wandering off. Debbie, Amita and Nine Ball ran down to the field to congratulate Constance in a tight group hug, and for that brief moment Debbie was completely content again, having managed to forget all about Lou and the art class in the shared excitement of her girls. Tammy patted Constance’s back with a look of motherly pride on her face, as she came to stand beside them.

All five of them passed through the gym, so that Tammy and Constance could grab their bags from the locker room before they headed over the quad for dinner. As they waited for the pair, Debbie heard something echoing in the quiet. Odd noises. Heavy breathing. She turned her head in the direction of the sound, following it to a nearby open doorway, a boxing studio, and peered inside. Her eyes widened in surprise as she saw Lou, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting shorts, striking a punching bag with her fists. Her knuckles were wrapped in bandages like a fighter, and it seemed as if she could really throw a hard punch. Her t-shirt clung to her torso, outlining the stark black shape of her sports bra.

And she was angry. Her face red, guttural sounds coming from her throat as she lashed out. She was half turned away, unaware that Debbie was there watching her. Who was she imagining that punching bag to be? Certainly it wouldn’t be her.

Debbie was struck with fear at the thought, although she felt something else entirely, something strange she couldn’t quite name as she saw Lou’s body so tightly wound up for the attack, as she heard Lou’s breathless panting, as she noticed her long fingers flexing before she curled them into fists again before each punch. Suddenly Debbie felt uncomfortable looking at Lou, and scared of what she was making her feel right then.

“Got it! Boss, get back here!” Constance called from down the hallway, and Lou turned at the voice. Debbie didn’t have time to get out of the way before Lou saw her there in the doorway, but their eyes barely met through sweaty bangs, before she fled back to her waiting friends.

“You alright?” Tammy asked, holding the gym door open for her.

“Of course, Tam-Tam,” Debbie said, though her happiness had ebbed away, the sight of Lou and the stirring in her stomach completely distracting her from all other thought.

At dinner, she sat quiet and contemplative, realizing now that Lou saying _I’m better with my hands_ hadn’t been a dirty joke after all. At least not _just_ a dirty joke. It clearly wasn’t her first time doing something like that, her body had moved with such accuracy and determination. Debbie was left wondering what else Lou was capable of. Was she possibly dangerous?

“Hey, Deb,” Daphne asked as she worked her way through a plate of steamed broccoli. “Did you pick a night for us to meet?”

“Hm?” Oh. How about… Friday?” Debbie asked carelessly, embarrassed to admit she hadn’t been thinking about their plans for the year at all. She looked to Tammy. “No soccer practice Friday night, right?" 

“Nope, that’s just fine,” Tammy said absentmindedly.

“Friday would be wonderful,” Rose added.

“Cool, cool,” Debbie nodded. “I’ll figure the details out, see if I can find somewhere for us to be.”

“How about we do it in your room?” Tammy suggested. “We could invite Lou.”

Debbie was thrown back to the conversation with Lou by the lakeside, recalling how she had referred to Tammy as a _looker_. But how did Tammy come into contact with Lou? As far as she knew, they didn’t share any classes, and Lou obviously hadn’t interacted with her because of soccer.

“What?”

“Well, yeah,” Tammy shrugged, looking sheepish at even having suggested such a thing. “She seems alright.”

“She’s cool, you need to chill, Boss,” Nine Ball added, patting Tammy on the back in support.

“True,” Constance nodded, and Debbie felt as if she was at an intervention. “Girl’s dope. She’s been all over this place, the people love her man.”

“I’ll consider it,” Debbie conceded. If nothing else, just to make them all shut up. She would need to talk to Tammy later though, figure out what exactly her connection to Lou is.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

After dinner, she headed alone to the principal’s office once more, hoping Carmine would still be there so she could talk to him. She found him working alone, his obnoxious secretary already gone for the evening and the door ajar. Debbie peeked in, and seeing him hunched over his desk she walked right in. Carmine looked up at the sound of her footsteps against the hardwood floor and smiled.

“Why hello, Debbie. A pleasant surprise to see you again so soon.”

Debbie rolled her eyes, reminded of her unanswered plea yesterday, but stepped forward to the desk. “Same to you, uncle Carmine.”

“How are you and Miss Miller faring?”

Debbie’s mouth tightened, wondering if she should be completely honest. Using her sugariest voice, she decided to change the subject. “Well, uncle, I actually came for another reason.”

“Oh?” he turned from looking smug to looking genuinely intrigued, as if he wasn’t expecting her to be there for any other reason than to complain about Lou.

“I need to get out of art class.”

Carmine raised his brows before shaking his head slowly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Debbie cut him off.

“I know it’s the only class I haven’t taken that’s available in that slot, but can’t I just retake a course or something? Put me back in greek literature.”

“I think we both know that’s not possible,” Carmine looked at her with as much sympathy as he could muster. “tell me, why do you want to get out of art so badly?”

“The class was terrible,” Debbie admitted. “I’m not an artist.”

She felt somewhat comfortable admitting this to Carmine, knowing that he was, despite his at times distant and condescending behavior, her family. She could rest assured that he would at least support her as an uncle, even if he had to obey by a certain set of rules as a principal.

“Tell me, Debbie, are you afraid of trying something new? Subject you haven’t tried before?” Debbie opened her mouth to answer, but Carmine continued, “...People you don’t know?”

“No,” she insisted, even though she had felt intimidated by Lou only an hour ago. “It’s the last year of school. I just don’t want to spend it on something that’s irrelevant.”

“You know,” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’ve never seen you balk at a challenge before.”

 _A challenge_? Suddenly she felt indignant at the suggestion that she was a coward.

Carmine took note of her silence. “I think that you should attend a little more than one class before you decide you’re giving up. Alright?” he asked as he smiled encouragingly.

Debbie nodded reluctantly.

“And I hear Lou is quite an artist. And not just as a painter and drawer.”

“Where did you hear that?” Debbie asked suspiciously, worried that her uncle already knew what had happened in Art that day. Not to mention, where he had heard she was an artist in other ways, and exactly what those other manners were.

“Family,” Carmine said simply, and Debbie let out a sigh. “Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Debbie nodded curtly.

“Alright then, run along.”

Debbie headed to the door but Carmine stopped her once more. “Oh, and Debbie?”

She turned on her heel in the doorway. “Yes?”

“It’s difficult to make friends, when you’re the only student who is new. i think it would be a good idea for you to include Lou in your little rendez-vous on Friday." 

“W-what?” her eyes widened and she began to protest. “I can’t just let some stranger, some outback savage, come into this business. I don’t trust…” but she trailed off as Carmine’s expression turned less than sympathetic. But he didn’t know what she had said, her ridiculous plan for expulsion, the way she felt about the school. And he obviously didn’t know how she was already making ground with the majority of her friend group, inching her way into her social circle in the most devious way. How did he know about their plans to meet, but not Lou’s rising popularity?

“She doesn’t even want to be here,” she tried.

“How would you feel about a new school, if you were sent to one tomorrow?”

Debbie froze, wondering if that was simply a comparison, or a threat. “I probably wouldn’t be too happy about it,” she said slowly. 

“I didn’t think so. Now I trust you remember what I said to you yesterday? That I trust you will be welcoming?”

Debbie simply nodded, knowing that it would do no good to protest any further.

“Good. You can go now.”

Debbie left in silence, hating the way her uncle could make her feel like she was just a little girl, being told off by an older family member. In many ways she probably was. She felt desperate for the fresh air as she left the administration building. Lou had managed to get on the good side of her uncle, and Debbie couldn’t for the life of her figure out how. But with that ace up her sleeve, what was Lou going to ruin for her next?

When she returned to the dorms, she stopped halfway down the hall, seeing Daphne and Amita’s door was ajar. Rose was seated in there with the pair, and they were looking at Amita’s laptop over the girl’s shoulder, Daphne’s hands snaked around Rose’s waist.

“This looks cozy,” Debbie remarked, stepping in the room with a grin.

“God, Debbie,” Rose jumped from her spot, knocking Daphne in the chin with her shoulder. “Give a girl a warning, will ya?”

Daphne groaned in pain, cradling her chin and squeezing her eyes shut in pain.

“Not your lucky day, is it Daph?” the last time she had seen Daphne, she had been taken off the soccer field to the nurse. “You alright?”

“Oh yeah,” she smiled and opened her eyes. “it’s been a great day.”

Her tone was thick with sarcasm and Debbie chuckled, moving to sit on Amita’s desk.

“Hey, Boss, look at this,” Amita spoke, pointing at the screen of her laptop, bringing Debbie’s attention to a picture of a blonde girl with a wide smile, dressed in riding gear and standing next to a large, white horse with a braided mane. Debbie squinted her eyes, finding something about the girl very familiar.

“What am I looking at?”

“Lilly Arnault. Think Paris Hilton, only relevant,” Amita grinned widely. “She’s new here, and she is _loaded_.”

“You want to con a freshman?” Debbie was genuinely shocked. Amita usually had a pretty strong moral compass, and stealing from a girl three years their prior was definitely not ethical.

“I mean, she’s not just any freshman,” Daphne cut in. “She’s the richest student to attend this school in the past, like, thirty years. I feel kind of cheated, to be honest.”

Rose patted the hand that was resting on her stomach, mirroring Daphne’s pout. Debbie and Amita on the other hand, merely laughed at the girl, amused by her own sense of entitlement. It was no secret that her family was very well off, and that Daphne benefitted greatly from that. The fact that she was wearing a Versace robe only spoke to those benefits.

“Her dad is the CEO of LVMH. They’re responsible for Louis Vuitton, Dom Perignon, Bulgari… you name it, they own it,” Amita informed her, and Debbie nodded thoughtfully.

“But she’s still just a freshman, ladies,” Rose reminded them. “We can’t rob a kid.”

“We won’t,” Debbie smirked. “We’re going to con her father.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Daphne asked, perking up at the prospect of getting at someone who was a competitor of her family.

“Let me think for a day or two, and I’ll get back to you on that,” Debbie tapped her chin, leaning closer to the screen and nodding towards the still present picture of Lilly. “but we’ll definitely need _her_.”

“Well, get back to us on that, ingenious leader,” Daphne joked, although her voice was laced with hope and excitement at the prospect of a major con.

“Of course, my lamb,” Debbie patted Daphne’s head, delighting in the way she frowned like a petulant child.

Amita launched into a speech about the way Lilly’s father was one of the reasons the United States were corrupt, and how corporate America had ruined her family’s business.

Debbie tuned her out, instead letting her gaze fall upon the walls of the room. On Daphne’s side, cut outs from various magazines decorated the walls, alongside polaroids and a dainty string of fairy lights. Her bed was covered in a silk sheet, and she had set up a clothes rack at the foot of the bed. On it she had hung several dresses, as well as flowy shirts and a single pair of pinstriped pants. Her side looked like a cross between the pages of a home decorating magazine and a high fashion clothing store.

On the other side, the one Amita was responsible, the decorations were sparse. Her desk was covered in papers already, despite it only being the second day of school. There were jars full of rocks, a collection she had started at the age of six. Each one was different, she maintained, despite the fact that half of them looked identical. The only decorations on the wall were a poster of the periodic table and a picture of her immediate family.

“You do know Bernard Arnault is French, right?” Rose cut off Amita, and Debbie sputtered as she tried to contain her laughter upon seeing the look of embarrassment on Amita’s face.

“Right,” she nodded, “of course I knew that.”

“I think Amita needs a good nights sleep,” Debbie jumped down from her position on the desk.

“I think you just want to get back to your hot roommate,” Daphne wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, tightening her grip on Rose. Rose smacked her shoulder, glaring at her in warning.

“I think you want to rethink that comment,” Debbie said dryly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Daphne smirked. “You didn’t deny that you think she’s hot.” 

“Shut up,” Debbie grumbled, walking towards the door with long steps.

“Use protection!” Daphne called after her, and Debbie flipped her off on her way out.

She headed down to the end of the hall, opening the door to find Lou lying on her bed, her face hidden by a copy of _The Price of Salt_ , a book Debbie had heard the title of, but didn’t know the plot of. A record player was balanced on the corner of Lou’s desk, and the smooth voice of Van Morrison filled the room. She didn’t even acknowledge Debbie coming in, or even stir. Debbie sat down her schoolbag, slipping out of her shoes. Throwing a look at the bare walls of their room, she imagined what it would look like had she been on her own. She would have like to put up posters of her favorite movies, a map of the school grounds, and definitely a whiteboard for planning. But now, decorating her half of the room might let Lou think it was okay for her to hang up whatever she wanted too, and Debbie wasn’t particularly interested in finding out whatever that would be.

She looked over at Lou again, wondering if her silence, and the anger she had seen at the gym was a representation of some sort of residual anger towards _her_ , or if it had something to do with the same emotions she had showed just last night. Whatever the reason, she was happy to be free of any obnoxious comments, and she found that she wasn’t even bothered by the music playing. She sat down to finish a worksheet for Advanced Mathematics, shoving it into her bag as she completed it. Grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she headed to the bathroom for a shower.

The day had completely drained her, and as she stood under the hot water it relieved her, soothing the tension inside her as it poured down her naked back. She closed her eyes, enjoying this small space of isolation, echoing with the sounds of the water. She breathed the hot air in deeply, and it wasn’t too long before she realized, to her surprise, her body was responding.

Oh. She looked down, past the clouds of steam, finding it odd that she had become aroused so unexpectedly. She felt the heat in her stomach, spreading further down. Considering right on the other side of the shower wall was Lou, lying in her bed. It felt wrong.

Should she do something about it? She was well aware that once she was turned on, it was for the best to deal with it, instead of letting it build. She froze for a moment, her heart beating quickly as she stood there indecisively. But, she decided, she deserved some relief after the stress of the school day, and knew she would feel better all over if she went ahead and took care of this.

Despite the fact that Lou’s close presence was in the back of her mind, she allowed herself to tentatively reach down between her legs, coating her fingers with her own wetness and stroking her folds, spreading the heat. There was something a little exciting even, in doing something so secretive behind the wall that lay between themselves. She put her hand against the wall to steady herself, entering herself with a single digit as she leaned her forehead on the tile and the water continued to pour down her back. She knew how to be quiet, but she couldn’t help the soft sighs that escaped her throat as she sped up her pace, her hips moving fluidly with each stroke. Her breathing grew more shallow, more frequent, and as the sound echoed around her, she suddenly remembered, against her will, the sound of Lou panting earlier in the gym, short and fast and angry. And how her arms flexed and glistened with sweat, the muscles tense and ready to strike. And the way her bandaged hands looked in their tight fists before she stretched her slender fingers, flexing them outward. And what would happen if Lou’s hands-

She came undone at her own hand, grabbing the knob of the shower and turning it to freezing cold, horrified. The water chilled her straight to the bone and she hugged herself, shivering until she was sure that she had washed away any and all evidence of her activities. Then she turned the water off, breathing in the damp silence. Why had she thought of Lou? Did she secretly enjoy making Lou frustrated, riling her up? Did she revel in this mutual hatred? She told herself it couldn’t be. That there was nothing enjoyable about any of this. The only reason she had thought of Lou was because she was _right there_ , on the other side of the wall, and she couldn’t get away from her. Lou _was_ ruining everything, even her most private moments.

After she had calmed herself and dried off, she put on her sleeping clothes and emerged from the bathroom, trying not to blush as she breezed past Lou’s side of the room and climbed into bed. She felt as if her actions were visible on her body, and attempted to cover as much of herself as possible with her blanket. Once comfortable under the covers, she casually picked up her book for English, and found the place she had left off last time she had read it.

Then, Lou spoke up softly. “What are you reading?”

Debbie brought the book down an inch and looked over at Lou, who had stopped reading and was sprawled across her bed, arms crossed behind her head. Debbie narrowed her eyes at her, face flushed, wondering if there was any possible way Lou had heard her panting, if she knew what had just gone on in the bathroom. The water had surely drowned out her breathing, but Lou’s bed was so awfully, unsettlingly close to the shower on the other side. Lou wasn’t smirking for a change though, or smiling, or looking any wiser. 

“ _Wuthering Heights_ ,” she answered finally.

“What class is that for?”

“English.”

“Of course,” Lou nodded, looking thoughtful. “American tradition to read boring books written a 150 years ago.”

“Yeah,” Debbie nodded, “it’s truly a great custom.”

“Do you mind the music?” Lou asked, sounding almost shy for the first time since they had met.

“No,” Debbie only know realized Lou had changed to Paul Simon, the poppy tones of _You Can Call Me Al_ flowing from the built in speaker of the record player. “It’s fine. I prefer Cat Stevens, or maybe Joe Walsh though.”

“Hm,” Lou hummed in response, and it seemed they were equally disinterested in the conversation. Debbie had to wonder why Lou had began speaking in the first place.

“Alright. I’m going to sleep,” Debbie told her, winding up the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her. She did not need a repeat of this morning.

“Sure, darling,” Lou’s voice was soft, and she was shrouded in darkness as Debbie swifted of her lamp, killing the last remaining light in the room.

She relaxed against her pillow, relieved that Lou hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary at all. But she grew curious when another thought came to mind. “Lou?”

“Mm.”

“Did you have detention with Mrs. Cartier yet?”

“No. That’s tomorrow after French.”

“Oh. Well good luck to you, then. Lord knows you’ll need it.”

"I can handle that grumpy old bat,” Lou spoke confidently, although her voice was tinged with exhaustion. “She’ll have to bring her A-game to keep me down.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Debbie chuckled into the darkness.

“Goodnight, princess,” Lou mumbled, shifting so that her nose was buried in her pillow.

“Goodnight.”

Satisfied, Debbie turned onto her side and closed her eyes. It wasn’t until Lou had fallen asleep a few minutes later though, that the blush finally left Debbie’s cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> So, what is Lou's business plan? And what's up with Uncle Carmine? And what's the con going to be? Who knows. I do.
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think of the story so far, and if you have any hopes for future chapters. I do my best to try and accommodate any wishes, so shoot your shot my loves.
> 
> See you for the next chapter ;)


	3. Cows Have Four Stomaches, And The Third Is The Cleanest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't get easier, but you do learn to deal with them. And maybe you learn something about yourself in the process?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back for another round of teenage drama!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, every last word of it! I put a lot of work into this one, so I hope it lives up to any and all expectations you might have :)
> 
> Small spoiler - a major development in Debbie and Lou's "relationship" will take place this chapter. But it's probably not what you think.
> 
> It's a bit longer than the first two - happy reading! ;)

Debbie and Lou awoke the next morning to the sound of the alarm clock. They both jumped out of bed, but Lou headed into the bathroom before Debbie could claim it first, much to her annoyance. She laid out an outfit for the day, wondering if there was time to change her clothes before Lou came back in to the room, not wanting to be caught with her pants down. As it turned out, she did have time, and then some to spare. Debbie grew tired of waiting her turn, and went over to bang on the bathroom door.  
  
“Hurry up in there,” she called, reminding Lou of her presence.  
  
Lou opened the door, and Debbie was taken aback for a second, as her brain processed the sight of Lou’s bare stomach and muscular shoulders. At least she had the decency to wear a bra - although the lacy, black bralette she had chosen did little to keep Debbie from short circuiting.  
  
“Come in then,” Lou spoke around her toothbrush. Debbie regained her composure, pushing past Lou into the bathroom, heading straight for the sink. They stood side by side, brushing their teeth. Debbie couldn’t help her eyes from travelling to Lou repeatedly, distracted by her state of undress.  
  
Lou noticed in the mirror that Debbie was eyeing her.  
  
“What?” she cocked her head as she spoke, a bit of toothpaste hitting the mirror in front of her.  
  
“No, nothing,” Debbie said, averting her eyes upward. Was it attraction or just plain curiosity that made her want to watch Lou’s movements?  
  
Debbie was ready for school before Lou, slinging her bag over her shoulder while Lou was pulling on a mustard yellow t-shirt, stretching her arms and sighing. The garment slipped down her body, hiding her taut stomach from sight. Debbie found she couldn’t look at Lou without picturing her back in the gym, flexed like a panther ready to pounce.  
  
“So…” she began, earning Lou’s attention. “You’re a boxer?”  
  
There was no use pretending she hadn’t seen Lou yesterday, when they both knew she had.  
  
“I know a thing or two,” Lou smirked, keeping her tone entirely too casual for Debbie’s taste. “A friend of mine had an illegal boxing league back home. Turns out you can make big money if you learn to fight with the big dogs.”  
  
Lou’s words seemed so personal, yet spoken with such indifference that Debbie was unsure how to respond. They didn’t talk about personal stuff. Heck, they barely talked at all.  
  
“I can imagine,” she settled on. “Hey, try not to get yourself in too much trouble today. You don’t need more detentions.”  
  
“Oh my, Deborah,” Lou placed a hand on her chest and spoke with sugar on her tongue, “are you worried about little old me?”  
  
“I’m just saying, you’ve already got detention. You’re on Mrs. Cartier’s list now.”  
  
“Who knows,” Lou smiled in amusement, “maybe it could be my ticket out of here.”  
  
“Don’t be stupid,” Debbie was growing tired of the subject, frustrated by how often it came up, and just how her stomach twisted at the thought of Lou being expelled. It was strange and unfamiliar, and she was not here for it.  
  
“Don’t you know by now, darling?” head cocked to the side, Lou tapped her temple with a single finger. “I’ve got brains for days, and intentions purer than a cow’s third stomach.”  
  
“I’m not sure what that means, but sounds like you’re saying you’re an idiot.”  
  
“Takes one to know one.”  
  
“A childish idiot at that,” Debbie retorted. “I hope you come up with something cleverer in future discussions.”  
  
“Future discussions?” Lou smirked once more, and Debbie was growing sick at it. “Is that a promise?”  
  
“I don’t make those,” shrugging, it was Debbie’s turn to infuriate Lou a little, “especially ones I don’t intend on keeping.”  
  
“Cute.”  
  
She felt utterly incapable at her failure to get underneath Lou’s skin. Somehow the blonde managed to dig herself into the deepest layer of Debbie’s own, and her inability to return the deed left her angry, and a bit disappointed in herself. She had never met someone who was so adept at matching her own quick wit, yet alone surpass it in certain instances. If she was to be forced to live with another student, couldn’t she get someone easy to manipulate? Someone she could actually _control_?  
  
“Right,” Debbie nodded with a roll of her eyes. “See you in class, smartass.”  
  
“Later, princess!” Lou called towards her receding back, as Debbie left for the dining hall. Always one to have the last word.  
  
Now that Debbie had been through all of her classes, she knew what to expect from them. She had all her homework completed, and her morning classes, English and Psychology, were actually enjoyable. She didn’t even have Lou on her mind again, with Lou running off somewhere by herself at breakfast and lunch, until their last period French class. Debbie went out of her way not to sit anywhere near Lou, afraid to face a fate similar to their last French class. Thankfully Rose, ever punctual, had already secured a table for the pair, and they went over their notes for class as they waited for everyone else to file in. Unsurprisingly, Lou slipped in just before Mrs. Cartier, situating herself at the table right next to Debbie and Rose, no doubt aware of Debbie’s displeasure in her doing so. At least, that’s what her smug facial expression indicated.  
  
Luckily, this time Mrs. Cartier did not ask them to engage in conversations in front of the class. She expressed her disappointment in the class’ ability as a whole, and handed out a fill in the blanks worksheet. It was something easy, something even the least competent students in the room could handle. Debbie had to admit to being angered at the thought that she was one of those students. She knew all about the structure of languages, despite being most familiar with the ways of the Germanic tongues. Spanish was close enough though.  
  
They were about two-thirds of the way through the class when Debbie heard scribbling from the desk beside her. She turned her head and saw Lou drawing on the back of the piece of paper that Mrs. Cartier had handed out. She was drawing some sort of elderly woman, holding a suitcase filled with cash and smiling with a thousand secrets untold. Her pencil was scraping back and forth on the paper as she shaded her clothes. A fantasy about her own future, perhaps? How very imaginative of her. Very optimistic. Once more, Debbie had to roll her eyes, but as she turned back she was shocked to find Mrs. Cartier standing right in front of her desk. Rose was already looking at her with utter panic, swallowing hard.  
  
“Are you bored, Miss Ocean? Am I not capable of holding your attention? Do you already know everything I am capable of teaching you?”  
  
“No Mrs., I’m listening,” Debbie lied, cocking her head towards Lou. “Miss Miller, however…”  
  
Although it was against her nature to snitch, she felt compelled to throw Lou under the bus, despite her own earlier warnings for the blonde to stay out of trouble. Hypocritical, she knew. Mrs. Cartier didn’t even turn away from Debbie as her hand slammed down on Lou’s desk. She twitched in surprise, watching as Mrs. Cartier closed her fist over the drawing and crumpled it into a ball.  
  
“I am aware. That doesn’t mean you should not have your eyes forward where they belong,” she finally looked at Lou, as if she were an afterthought. “I’ll be seeing you after class anyway.”  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Lou smiled cheerily, her cheeks straining, her eyes completely void of any happiness at all.  
  
She walked off with Lou’s balled up paper and threw it in the garbage bin. Lou slouched into her chair with a sigh, and Debbie managed to throw her a glare while Mrs. Cartier had her back turned. Her chance at redeeming herself to the teacher was slipping further away, and it was once again Lou’s fault for making her look bad.  
  
After class, the students began to file out, and Mrs. Cartier made for the door as well. “You stay here,” she warned Lou. “I’ll be back shortly.”  
  
As Debbie was packing her notebook in her bag, Lou slithered out of her desk and retrieved her drawing from the trash can. “You shouldn’t draw in class,” Debbie reprimanded. “This isn’t art.”  
  
“Sorry, Mom,” Lou said, unbothered as she attempted to straighten the paper out again.  
  
Debbie bristled at the nickname. “I’m not saying that for your sake, I’m saying it for mine. Don’t distract me.”  
  
“I know,” Lou purred, stepping into Debbie’s personal space. She attempted to back away, but found her back colliding with the desk behind her. “I’m sorry you find me so much more interesting.”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Debbie snorted, voice not faltering for a second. “Aren’t you a little too old to fantasize about your future like that?”  
  
She gestured towards Lou’s drawing, which Lou then held up in front of her, raising her brows. “It’s The Curious Savage,” she explained, turning the paper over to show her the text on the other side. What Debbie had understood to be their handout, was a flyer from the theater department. It advertised that The Curious Savage would be the fall play, and auditions were to be held tomorrow in the auditorium.  
  
“You want to act?” it was Debbie’s turn to look at Lou in disbelief.  
  
“Of course not,” Lou rolled her eyes, placing the flyer on the desk. “I don’t act in front of a knowing crowd. I could paint the sets though. Make sure my artistic vision is expressed clearly, for the world to see my extraordinary skills.”  
  
Debbie smirked with relish. “Now don’t be selfish, Lou. Once you ditch the school and go back to herding cattle, who’s going to finish your theatrical ‘masterpiece’?”  
  
Lou nodded thoughtfully, although the twinkle in her eyes seemed to dim. Maybe Debbie could get under her skin after all.  
  
“I suppose you have a point,” she admitted. “I doubt there’s anyone capable of continuing my incredible display of skill in this place. But there’ll be hopeful actresses there, and they tend to be bi-curious if properly motivated.”  
  
“You’re disgusting,” Debbie snapped, feeling an unexplainable anger at the thought of Lou ‘corrupting’ any innocent girls at the school. “Sure you weren’t meant to attend the boy’s school down the road? I hear they’re better at dealing with misogyny.”  
  
“I would never force myself upon anyone,” Lou stated clearly, crossing her arms and leaning towards Debbie. “I tend to be quite persuasive, without even trying. Some, even, find me irresistible.”  
  
“I’d like a list of names, including addresses and any mental disorders that cause severe hallucinations.”  
  
“Touché,” Lou backed away from Debbie, smirk back in place. “That’s french, in case you didn’t know.”  
  
“How come every conversation we have I feel the urge to tell you to shut up?”  
  
“Because the sound of my voice is such an incredible turn on to you, that you can barely stand it,” Lou crooned, and Debbie laughed at the confident set of her eyes, and the slight pursing of her lips.  
  
“I think you might be delusional,” she recovered. “Do you want me to get the nurse?”  
  
“That’s alright,” Lou looked over her shoulder as the sound of high heels clicked against the floor of the hallway. “You can kiss it all better later.”  
  
“You,” Mrs. Cartier came barreling into the room and pointed at Debbie. “What are you still doing here? Out!”  
  
Debbie shouldered her bag and slunk away, leaving Lou to her fate, though as she did so she managed to nab the crumbled flyer from the desk.  
  
As she walked back to the dorm through the courtyard, she unfolded it and looked at Lou’s drawing. She really was talented, even when she was just doodling in class. It made her wonder what other skills Lou might have. The sketched woman had a manic, mischievous expression in her heavy set eyes, and Debbie had to chuckle at how her fingers were drawn, clutching the suitcase with such intensity. The woman had the air of superiority Debbie knew she herself possessed, and that she saw in equal measures when she watched Lou. She frowned at the drawing, wondering how Lou was faring in detention back at the French classroom. When she got back to their room, she gently laid the wrinkled drawing on Lou’s bed, smoothing it out again with a twinge of sympathy, before sitting down at her desk to attend to her homework.  
  
At dinner, Debbie’s friends were mostly excited about the play. Daphne and Amita wanted to audition, arguing playfully over what role suited them best.  
  
“Couldn’t you just see me as a leading woman?” Daphne asked, lifting her arm into the air with dramatic flair, her other hand settling on her chest.  
  
“Maybe if it were the Wizard of Oz or something,” Amita chided. “I just don’t see you as Mrs. Savage.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Daphne flung a slice of carrot in her direction. “And you think you’d be any better?”  
  
Amita ignored the invading carrot on her dinner tray. “I’d like to be Mrs. Paddy.”  
  
“You definitely look old enough to be her.”  
  
“Come at me, babyface.”  
  
“Oh, I will,” Daphne made to stand up, but Debbie grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back into her seat.  
  
“Calm down, Rambo,” she muttered, chuckling along with the rest of the group.  
  
“I wish we could go see you guys mess up your auditions,” Constance noted, looking wistfully at her mashed potatoes. “Damn soccer practice.”  
  
“Well…” Tammy considered playfully, tapping her chin. “I _suppose_ since everyone supported the team yesterday, we could go support our theater brethren…”  
  
“Dude, please,” Constance looked at her with puppy dog eyes. “I can’t miss an opportunity to see my Amita flail around on stage.”  
  
Debbie smiled. “Obviously we’re all going,” she said, looking around at her smiling friends. “If Constance gets to make fun of Amita, we should all get to.”  
  
“Assholes.”  
  
“Oh no, Amita, what would you mother say to such crude language?” Debbie feigned disgust.  
  
“Yeah, Amita, how will you ever find a suitable husband with that hostile attitude?” Daphne asked, faking sincere concern with remarkable conviction.  
  
Debbie let the group fall into their usual banter, as she turned her head to look around, hoping to spot Lou somewhere in the crowd. Unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen, the only other platinum blonde bangs those of a select few wannabe rockstar girls. Lou definitely rocked it better, with attitude to boot. Maybe she had yet to finish her detention? It had nearly been three hours, and Debbie hated to admit she was concerned. She didn’t do concern.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Debbie didn’t see Lou until she trudged back into their bedroom an hour after dinner. She looked exhausted, and as she made for her bed, she paused, noticing the drawing Debbie had laid there. She sighed and brushed it away onto the floor, before flopping down onto the blankets with a dramatic sigh.  
  
“That bad, huh?” Debbie piped up from her seat at her desk.  
  
“The witch had me writing lines. For _four_ hours,” she spoke, voice half muffled by her pillow as she placed it over her face, letting her arms fall to her side. The pillow swayed in place for a second or so, before sliding down her cheek and back onto the covers.  
  
“That’s not _too_ bad,” Debbie reasoned, trying to make light of it. “I thought it would be w-”  
  
“On the _blackboard_. I can’t even feel my arm anymore,” she said, attempting to move her hand only to have it flop on the bed again. “I’m lucky I have such strong, _cattle wrestling_ arms. Otherwise I might have died trying.”  
  
Debbie recoiled at the reference to her own prior insult, and the reminder of how Lou had bristled at her words. Seemed there were certain things that were capable of bothering her. Debbie stored that knowledge away for later, sensing it could come in handy.  
  
“What’d you have to write?”  
  
“Two hours of ‘I will not undermine my teacher’ followed by two hours of ‘I am not above anyone else’,” Lou groaned. “Seems she thinks I have a superiority complex of some sort.”  
  
“Don’t you?”  
  
“No,” Lou shook her head, turning her eyes to Debbie. “I just happen to be quite a remarkable person. Anyways, I had to erase it all once I filled up the blackboard. The cafeteria was practically closed when I got there. All that was left was a burnt bagel and some suspicious looking salmon. Needless to say, I have resigned myself to the fate of death by starvation.”  
  
Debbie was silent for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to feel sorry for her. “Well, have we learned our lesson?”  
  
“I’ve decided that the patriarchy sucks, and we need to rally together and stand up against the tyranny at this school.”  
  
“So that’s a no on lesson learned?” she chuckled.  
  
“Most definitely.”  
  
Lou rose from her bed, stretching her sore arm above her head with a groan of pain. She moved to stand behind Debbie, throwing one arm across the backrest of her desk chair, and leaning in far too close for Debbie’s taste. She valued her personal space, especially when around strangers.  
  
“Hey, that’s Arachne,” she pointed to Debbie’s computer screen, where she had opened the link Amita had sent her, with the details on Lilly Arnault. “Cyberstalking a freshman? And you say I’m disgusting.”  
  
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not cyber stalking her,” Debbie huffed, attempting to block her screen from Lou’s sight. “I’ve got other thoughts regarding your friend, _Arachne_.”  
  
“Hey, that’s a badass name,” Lou protested, before smirking and turning Debbie’s chair so she could see the screen clearly once more. “I know her dad’s filthy rich, by the way. And if you’re going to con the poor girl, I want in.”  
  
“I-I… What?” Debbie sputtered, turning her chair so she was face to face with Lou. “I wouldn’t.”  
  
“Cut the bullshit, Ocean,” Lou rolled her eyes. “You would, you could, and you _will_.”  
  
“Even if I were, why would I let you in on it?”  
  
“Because, you clearly don’t have a plan yet,” she stated it as if it were as obvious as snow in the winter, and Debbie turned rigid. “Don’t even try to deny it, you look about as pensive as a rat in front of a mousetrap.”  
  
“What does that even me-”  
  
“Just so happens that I have a few ideas myself. Besides,” Lou continued, unbothered, “I now know about your plan, and you’d hate for me to go telling anybody, wouldn’t you, princess?”  
  
“You wouldn’t.”  
  
“Or would I?”  
  
It was a challenge, and Debbie was no fan of challenges that were beyond her control. Challenges she had no chance of beating. Maybe this what was her uncle had meant when he had said Lou might prove to be useful? Was Lou like her? A con man and a criminal? She did seem the type, despite her flair for dramatics and her obnoxious persona.  
  
“What do you have to offer, then?” she conceded, turning back to her computer.  
  
Lou smiled in glee, jumping onto Debbie’s desk and settling in, pushing aside a few of Debbie’s papers and her framed picture of the Ocean family, back when her mom had still been around.  
  
“We can’t let her think anything is going on. Luckily, I know my girl Arachne, and I know she’s not that smart, and she just wants to fit in.”  
  
A smirk made its way onto Debbie’s face, as she was brought back to her first encounter with Daphne. Only, Daphne turned out to be a lot smarter than people gave her credit for.  
  
“So, we make a club. Science, Math, whatever we can make that seems credible,” Lou continued, waving her hand in front of her body as she spoke. “We get her in, make her feel welcome, and then we tell her we need money for club excursions, supplies, whatever.”  
  
“That… might actually work,” Debbie had no shame admitting she was surprised, having thought Lou to be more full of shit than full of ideas. “ _But_ , we need to discuss it with my girls. I don’t do anything without them.”  
  
“Oh yeah, the infamous Ocean’s 7,” bangs flew across her forehead as Lou nodded. “it’ll be a pleasure to work with you.”  
  
“Right,” Debbie eyed the blonde suspiciously. “You told me yesterday you had a business idea. I have to say, I’m intrigued. Especially now that you have proved yourself somewhat useful.”  
  
“ _Somewhat_ useful?” Lou huffed, placing a hand on her shirt-clad chest and feigning hurt. “Your words wound me, milady.”  
  
“Quit the dramatics and just tell me,” it was a demand, and by the look in Lou’s eyes it was abundantly clear that she wasn’t prone to simply accept demands.  
  
“Poker.”  
  
“Poker?”  
  
“Obviously we’re not allowed to gamble in this place, due to outdated rules and boring officials,” Lou explained. “It just so happens that there’s ample space in the basement beneath the auditorium, where they keep the props and all. Perfect for a few high stake games. Easy cash, low risk.”  
  
“Except we’ll get expelled if we get caught.”  
  
“There’s that, of course.”  
  
“It’s not bad though,” Debbie conceded. “Any girls who join won’t tell, because they’ll be afraid and will want to cover their own asses. And I don’t know about you, but I have yet to lose a game of poker.”  
  
“We should play one day, then,” it was a simple proposition, yet it felt like a sincere peace offering. Rarely did Lou look at her with such earnest interest, and it felt _good_.  
  
“We’ll talk about it Friday.”  
  
“Oh my, darling,” back to the dramatics, ever the actress, “are you inviting me to your oh, so exclusive criminal get together?”  
  
“Consider it a trial run,” Debbie shrugged.  
  
Lou actually smiled, not a smirk, not a grin, a genuine, heartfelt smile that suited her features better than any other expression Debbie had seen on her face. She looked less badass, less calculated and mischievous… and much more _beautiful_.  
  
“I’ll take it.”  
  
“Wait,” Debbie suddenly perked up, grinning as she came to a realization. “Is that why you want to paint the sets? An excuse to get in the basement?”  
  
“You really are a smart cookie, aren’t ya?” Lou reached forward to ruffle her hair, and Debbie rolled her eyes as she smacked her hand away.  
  
“So you’re coming to the auditions tomorrow then?”  
  
“Why? Are you trying out?” back to that infuriating smirk, Lou tilted her head and raised her brows in disbelief. “Because I would _love_ to see that.”  
  
“I bet you would,” Debbie chuckled. “Alas, the path of acting is not for me. I prefer to do my acting off stage. I’m just going to support Daphne and Amita.”  
  
“Do you want me to come?” there was a look of hesitance in Lou’s searching gaze, as if she actually cared about Debbie’s opinion. That was a new one.  
  
“You could meet the other girls,” she reasoned. “Those that you haven’t already lured into your waiting arms, anyways.”  
  
“Which ones would that be?” Lou winked, the question clearly not supposed to be answered.  
  
“God, you’re insufferable.”  
  
Lou leaned forward, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Debbie’s thigh. She smiled, another genuine smile.  
  
“Yet here you are, letting me into your little gang.”  
  
Debbie nodded, looking down distractedly at the fingers just barely touching her leg. Lou was looking for comfort, or so it felt. However, could be that she was just trying to get on Debbie’s nerves, sensing her need for personal space. She placed her hand next to Lou’s, inching it forward so she could play lightly with her long, slender fingers. She was uncertain as to how she felt about allowing the touch, yet could not deny her own desire to return the sensation of intimacy. She still wasn’t planning on being Lou’s friend, exactly, having just now accepted her as a business associate. It would serve neither party well to give her any ideas. Besides, Lou’s touch made her feel as strange as she had when she had seen her boxing in the gym.  
  
“I thought you couldn’t move your arm,” she said with a nervous laugh.  
  
“It’s this one,” Lou said, wiggling the fingers of her left hand, limp beside her thigh as it rested on the desk. Even so, she retracted the hand resting on Debbie’s leg.  
  
Debbie exhaled in relief as she watched her fingers leave her thigh. “How are you going to do art with that tomorrow?”  
  
“With passion,” Lou stared into the room dramatically, clutching her fist in front of her. “I shall not let my injuries keep me from the task at hand, for I am a force to be reckoned with.”  
  
“And also incredibly, laughably, delusional.”  
  
“So you keep saying.”  
  
“And I will keep doing so, until you admit that I’m right.”  
  
“I’ll admit to it once you learn how to draw,” Lou snorted, jumping from the desk and patting Debbie’s shoulder. Then she shuffled towards her bed once more, throwing herself on it and shielding her eyes with her good arm.  
  
“But,” she stated drily, “right now, all I’ll do, is _sleep_.”  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
When last period came around the next day, Debbie found that art was no easier than it had been their first class. She had hoped for a miracle, perhaps a change of teacher, or a random stumble upon some unknown source of immense artistry. No such luck. Miss Masters was there, cheerful as ever, practically prancing around the room as she helped the students set up easels in front of a small platform by the blackboard. Upon it, sat Mae, her English teacher, looking petrified. She wore a toga like gown, that revealed more skin than Debbie had ever seen from a teacher before. Fortunately, Mae was a relatively good looking woman.  
  
“Today, I have decided we will cater to the likes of Miss Miller, and work on figures. Consider today warm up for our upcoming project, because next week we will be working on your senior self portrait paintings,” Miss Masters announced, smiling sweetly at Lou.  
  
Debbie frowned. She hadn’t been anticipating such a project. How was she expected to paint if she couldn’t even draw?  
  
“Ah, and our fantastic model,” Miss Masters gestured towards Mae, a reassuring smile upon her narrow lips. “Thank you for helping us out today, Mae.”  
  
Mae blushed. “Miss Masters, I don’t think this outfit is entirely appropriate-”  
  
“Nonsense, my dear, you’re simply ravishing,” Miss Masters clapped her hands excitedly, before turning to look at her students once more. “Everyone, prepare your art boards with newsprint, get some charcoal, and find an easel. And be careful not to get any on your clothes, it’s a proper mess to get out.”  
  
Debbie did as she was told, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse and setting her board up at an easel. Lou soon chose one not too far from her own. Debbie glanced over, wary that Lou had gotten her in trouble last time she was next to her in class. But that was French, and this was Art, and the same drawing infraction wasn’t an infraction in this class.  
  
Lou noticed her looking and pantomimed being unable to raise her left hand to the easel, considering last night’s detention, making a show of frowning pitifully and attempting to lift her stick of charcoal. Debbie suddenly had a fluttering hope she wouldn’t be the worst artist today, but as Mae assumed her first pose, Lou snapped out of her theatrics and started drawing in studious concentration.  
  
Debbie wilted gloomily, looking at her blank paper and the piece of charcoal dirtying her fingers. She didn’t think she could do Mae justice any better than she had been able to with a simple bunch of grapes. She had barely brought her charcoal up to make an uncertain line across her page when suddenly she changed poses.  
  
“Wait, what?” she asked out loud, perplexed.  
  
“They’re thirty-second gestures,” Lou leaned over to explain, smirking at the shaky line on Debbie’s paper.  
  
“What?” Debbie responded in dismay, switching her paper for a new, untarnished one. “I’m supposed to draw her in thirty seconds?”  
  
“Well, like this,” Lou said, showing Debbie her board. Lou had already drawn a lovely minimalist figure with flowing strokes, and even a face. Debbie didn’t think she could achieve that in an entire class period, let alone thirty seconds.  
  
“Loosen up, darling,” Lou encouraged, switching into a mock mentor voice, a horrible parody of Mr. Miyagi, “Be the charcoal, make the paper your world.”  
  
She lifted her hand to her own page and started drawing Mae again, barely even looking at the drawing as she did so.  
  
Debbie stared at her own page, completely blank. Grimly, she reached to try again, just as a new pose was presented. She was determined this time to get at least something down, and she started drawing her eyes, two rounded diamonds with circles inside… then the gentle slope of a nose, and a darkened set of lips… and then the pose was over.  
  
Lou peeked over to see what Debbie had done and laughed at the tiny floating face in the middle of her paper. Debbie shot her a hurt look.  
  
“Here,” Lou said, amusement ever present. She came over and turned to the next page in Debbie’s pad of newsprint, then moved to stand beside her, a hand on her shoulder. Her other hand went to Debbie’s right hand, lifting it to the page and making her draw a quick, loose circle at the upper center of the page, moving her wrist. “You feel that?” she said softly in her ear. “You draw with your whole arm, not just your hand. Like making love.”  
  
While Debbie couldn’t see her, she could hear the wink in her voice, and she shook her head and laughed softly. She did feel it, along with Lou’s blackened fingers on the back of her hand, squeezing her tightly as she guided her. Debbie held her breath then, all too aware of the touch, and how Lou’s own paper stood abandoned on the easel.  
  
“Lou, I don’t think you should be-”  
  
“Don’t worry about it, it’s easier to show you how it’s done,” Lou said, interrupting. She had her draw an angled line beneath the circle, Debbie realizing that the circle and line together created a head.  
  
“And this,” Lou continued in a soft whisper, having her draw a curving cross inside it, “is how you show where her face is. See, this is where her eyes are. That’s all you need. Keep it simple, no need to try and impress anybody.”  
  
Debbie watched in a trance as Lou moved their joined hands across the page, having her press the charcoal to the paper to sketch out two willowy thick lines to indicate the arms, then a gentle curving stroke to make the breasts and waist. Lou didn’t seem bothered at all that she was drawing a teacher, and Debbie knew Lou didn’t take English with Mae. She wouldn’t have the same reservations as herself.  
  
Lou was helping her draw the flowing shape of the dress when Mae changed positions. Debbie was shocked thirty seconds had lasted even that long this time. It felt like an eternity since Lou had taken hold of her hand. Lou didn’t falter, simply flipping over Debbie’s paper.  
  
“Again, faster,” she commanded, guiding her to draw a circle once more.  
  
“Lou,” Debbie chided nervously, not entirely certain why she felt worked up. It was a lot like the feeling previous to her shower just two days earlier. Perhaps it was the control Lou had over her body at that moment, forcing her to draw in a way that was not hers and making her feel not altogether herself.  
  
“And what, may I ask, is going on over here?” Miss Masters demanded, coming up behind them.  
  
Lou dropped Debbie’s hand slowly, stepping back. “I was just helping Debbie out.”  
  
“Debbie, we don’t have other students do our work for us,” Miss Masters tutted in annoyance.  
  
“It’s not like I asked her to,” Debbie rolled her eyes, and out of the corner of her eye she noticed the rest of the class and even Mae, were all looking curiously in their direction at the sudden interruption. She glared at Lou accusingly, although Lou simply raised her hands and shrugged, having the decency to look at least somewhat apologetic.  
  
“I mean, _someone_ needs to teach her the right way to do it,” she stated simply.  
  
“Oh, are you an art teacher?” Miss Masters asked sarcastically.  
  
“Yes,” Lou replied without humor. “I taught at the community center back home. And I can tutor Debbie.”  
  
“I told you, I don’t need-” Debbie began to say, but Miss Masters cut her off, continuing to address Lou.  
  
“You may do what you like in your own time, but not in this class. Go back to your own work,” she warned. “You have talent. I don’t want you wasting your time like this.”  
  
Debbie grimaced. Even though she knew Lou shouldn’t have been helping, she felt a pinprick of hurt at Miss Master’s phrasing. As if teaching Debbie wasn’t worth the time. Sure, she thought art of her own making was a completely waste of not only time, but also energy and resources, but a teacher thinking her incapable was not something she was used to. She clenched her jaw as she got back to work, this time determined not be disturbed by anyone.  
  
It wasn’t her doing, after all. She didn’t ask for help, rarely ever did at all. Though as she lifted the charcoal to the paper once more, she started with the loose, flowing circle Lou had shown her. She noticed then the black fingerprints on the back of her hand, Lou having left her mark on the skin. It had been Lou’s right hand, the sore one, guing her. She really was good with her hands. She stared for a moment, realization dawning as her eyes traveled from her hand to where Lou’s other hand had been rested on her shoulder. Charcoal smudges were all over her previously immaculate white blouse.  
  
“ _Lou_!” she hissed angrily, glaring sternly and pointing out the mess. Lou bared her teeth in a guilty smile, shrugged her shoulders, and returned her attention back to her own easel.  
  
Debbie found the rest of the class confusing, frustrating, and an unhappy experience on the whole, but still… the one trick that Lou had managed to show her did seem to help. Out of all the students though, Debbie was the only one assigned extra work to do outside of class, in an effort to make her learn the basics. She took her handout reluctantly, glaring at Miss Masters, who looked not even the least bit sorry to be bothering her with more homework than she already had. It didn’t matter anyways, she knew she would never catch up.  
  
“Oh, and Miss Ocean?” Miss Masters cocked her head. “Make sure the work you turn in on Monday is actually your own.”  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Debbie was in a remarkably bad mood as she headed towards the auditorium, her bag thrown over her clean shoulder to make sure she didn’t spread the charcoal any further. She realized latently that Lou was trailing behind her.  
  
“Will you stop getting me in trouble?” she growled, throwing a glare back at her. “Did you hear Miss Masters just know? She’s basically labeled me a cheat already.”  
  
“Isn’t cheating like the family business though?” Lou mused.  
  
“Not the point.”  
  
“It’s not like showing you how to draw is cheating anyways,” she continued. “She could just do her job and teach you herself.”  
  
Debbie had a feeling the teacher’s attitude may have sprung from her mentioning she didn’t want to take Art on the first day of class. Still, Lou was at fault for the rest.  
  
“You’ve ruined my shirt,” she grumbled.  
  
“Consider it a reminder of my tantalizing touch,” Lou waggled her eyebrows and Debbie chuckled.  
  
“Some things I would rather forget.”  
  
“Back at it again, with those harmful words,” Lou stopped in her tracks, clutching her shirt at the front and batting her eyes as if she was fighting back tears. Then she straightened up, coming to stand beside Debbie. “But, honestly, Debs, I could help you with your homework.”  
  
“First of all, you need to clear out of my business,” Debbie stated clearly, making sure she was getting through to Lou. “Second of all, it has to be my _own_.”  
  
“I won’t touch your hands,” Lou promised, eyes perusing Debbie’s body as she smirked. “No telling for other places though.”  
  
“I think you’ve helped enough,” Debbie said, pushing open the door leading to the auditorium, the rows upon rows of chairs covered in darkness. She switched the light on, and watched Lou smile in awe as she looked upon the vast room, and listened to the rhythmic hum as the lights flickered on. Her thoughts lingered on the memory of Lou’s hand on her own, controlling and guiding her. She felt her blush returning. It was so unusual for her to be the one being lead, as opposed to leading. They moved down the rows, stopping at the second one and shuffling in to sit down. Lou left no space between them, sprawling herself upon her seat, her leg coming to rest upon the armrest that Debbie was pretty sure was reserved for her spot. Lou continued to tease Debbie relentlessly concerning her complete lack of artistic abilities, until her friends came tumbling through the door.  
  
“Hey, boss, listen!” Constance began, shouting all the way from the entrance as she barrelled towards Debbie. “You gotta hear what Tammy-”  
  
She stopped dead in her tracks when she spotted Lou, who raised her hand with a lazy wave. Constance bounced on her feet twice, before moving towards them once more.  
  
“What is up, Miller?” she said, engaging Lou in a brief, yet in Debbie’s eyes utterly ridiculous, handshake. Lou simply smirked in response, before nodding in greeting at the other girls, who followed Constance’s lead and sat down around them.  
  
Tammy came to rest on Debbie’s other side, with Rose and Daphne to her right. Constance threw herself into the seat next to Lou, ushering Nine Ball and Amita in next to her.  
  
“Didn’t know you were going to be here, Lou,” Tammy said conversationally, leaning forward to look past Debbie.  
  
“I wasn’t,” Lou shrugged, before smirking in Debbie’s direction. “But your stern leader here begged me to.”  
  
“I did not beg,” Debbie protested, bristling at the suggestion.  
  
“Mhm, no, but you did ask,” it was clearly not Lou’s nature to just let things go.  
  
“That’s huge for Debbie, to be honest,” Tammy chided in, the others nodding in agreement.  
  
“And yet you keep saying you don’t like me, princess,” Lou pouted, letting her arm fall across Debbie’s shoulders as she leaned in to mock complain.  
  
“Trust me,” Debbie rolled her eyes, “I don’t.”  
  
Yet she let Lou’s arm rest around her, and found she didn’t even tense as her fingers brushed continuously against the thin fabric over her shoulder. If any of the girls took notice, they kept quiet, much to Debbie’s unending gratitude. The only sign of any reaction to the motion was Tammy’s raised brows, and the questioning gaze that she hit Debbie with.  
  
If she were planning to speak, she missed her shot. Onto the stage stepped two women; Miss Anderson, the drama teacher, and Miss Lynch, the music teacher. They entered at the stroke of the hour, chiming out on the church clock tower downtown.  
  
“Welcome to the auditions for this year’s production of The Curious Savage!” Anderson said with a smile. “We’re pleased to see so many of you who would like to participate in our fall play.”  
  
Debbie knew that half the kids were there simply to watch the auditions for the entertainment value, and the schadenfreude.  
  
“If this is your first audition, remember to relax,” she continued. “And if you would like some help getting into character, you are welcome to try on some of the costumes we have available.”  
  
She pointed to a set of trunks laid out on the floor by the foot of the stage.  
  
“Please be careful though, girls,” Miss Lynch interjected. “The costumes won’t fit everybody.”  
  
“Right,” Anderson said importantly, “now come up here and take a script, and pick a passage to read for us. Take your time looking it over and remember, you may get a part entirely different than the character you read for. That’s how theater goes.”  
  
Daphne and Amita, being in the front row, where the first to pick up scripts from the pile at the front of the stage. Debbie looked up in surprise as she felt Lou’s arm slip from her shoulders, and watched the blonde climb over the seat in front of her, signalling for a nearby freshman to pass her a script.  
  
“What are you doing?” Debbie hissed as Lou settled into her seat once more.  
  
Lou simply ignored her, leaning across her with her entire upper body, and shoving the script into Tammy’s hands. Tammy accepted it somewhat reluctantly, looking at Lou with fright in her eyes.  
  
“I can’t-”  
  
“Yes, you can,” Lou rolled her eyes in exasperation. “And you will.”  
  
“But, what if-”  
  
“Listen, Tam,” Lou interrupted her once more, this time looking at her with much more tenderness, grabbing her one hand and squeezing it reassuringly, “you told me you wanted to, right? So go do it. You’ll be great.”  
  
Tammy still looked unsure of herself, although she browsed through the script gingerly. She then looked to Lou, an unspoken question in her eyes.  
  
“Hey, relax,” removing her hand, Lou smiled. “Even if it doesn’t work out, you’ll still have soccer. And I’m sure Amita will start are geology club with you if you really need something more to do.”  
  
“I think I’d rather volunteer to clean the toilets by the cafeteria for the rest of the year,” Tammy chuckled, finally relaxing back into her seat.  
  
As Tammy scanned the script for a suitable passage for her audition, Debbie turned to Lou, pulling her from a conversation with Constance. She grabbed her arm and yanked her close, mouth set in a harsh line and brows drawn low on her face.  
  
“How did you know that?”  
  
“Know what?” Lou spat, pulling her arm from Debbie’s grip and looking at her as if she was nothing short of insane.  
  
“That Tammy wanted to audition,” Debbie spoke through gritted teeth. “She didn’t tell me that.”  
  
“Did you ask?”  
  
Debbie didn’t. She wasn’t aware she needed to. But Tammy was _her_ best friend, not Lou’s, and so it seemed obvious that she should be the one to be encouraging Tammy, the one to know about her desire to audition in the first place.  
  
“Didn’t think so,” Lou snarled, leaning further away from Debbie. “I know you’re all caught up in yourself right now, Debbie, but the rest of us are _here_.”  
  
Rarely one to be taken aback, Debbie was shocked at Lou's suddenly hostile attitude, having joked around with her only minutes earlier. So, perhaps Debbie had been a bit preoccupied lately, but who was really to fault for that? She had made it painstakingly clear that Lou had been an unwanted presence I the first place, and so it seemed foolish for her to paint Debbie out to be the bad guy. She was not the bad guy when it came to her friends, never had been. Sure, she had certain standards and expectations that she expected her group to meet - but those were strictly business requirements. She never expected anything from them in her personal life, except for mutual friendship. Only issue being that this far into the year, she had yet to enforce the mutual part of that equation.  
  
"I didn't know you and Tammy were so close," she opted to say, returning the challenge with little hesitation.  
  
"Come on, Debbie," Lou chuckled humorlessly. "You and I share two classes. _Two_. Didn't it occur to you that I might be in classes with some of the others too?"  
  
"O-of course!"  
  
"Sure didn't seem like that was the case, darling."  
  
"I know you do, of course I do." Debbie scoffed. "You're in biology... with Tammy."  
  
It dawned on her even as she was speaking, that she had completely forgotten that Amita and Tammy did share a class with Lou. And that they had known about her even before she had. That Lou was not her discovery.  
  
"There we go," Lou mocked her, patting her cheek with her right hand as she shoved the left into her pocket. "You actually do listen to what your friends say."  
  
"You're an ass."  
  
"Just setting your priorities straight, princess," Lou shrugged, lowering her right hand, putting that in her pocket too. "I'm sure you'll appreciate it in the long run."  
  
"I find it hard to believe I'll appreciate much about you, honestly."  
  
"Yet you think there are some things you'll appreciate about me," it wasn't a question. "I'll take what I can get. I can tell you're going to be a tough cookie to crack."  
  
"And _what_ exactly, do you hope to gain by 'cracking' me open?" Debbie chuckled, her mind barely registering the abrupt change of atmosphere.  
  
"Not sure yet," Lou said sincerely, leaning the side of her face against the deep red fabric of the auditorium seat. "But I think I'm slowly figuring it out."  
  
Soon, the auditorium was filled with a cacophony of voices, a steady stream of babble as students practiced reciting passages in their seats. Amita was paging through her script, looking frantically for the perfect passage to read for Mrs. Paddy. Miss Lynch stood up on the stage, giving an overview of the characters, bu she could barely be heard over the many voices practicing lines.  
  
Finally, the first volunteers began to creep up out of their seats, signing up on a clipboard to start reading on stage. A few headed towards the costume trunks, including Amita. She threw on a curly, short haired wig, that had once been white. With time it had turned a hideous yellow, that spoke volumes of the abuse it had suffered throughout the years. An over-confident freshman ended up taking the stage first, stumbling through Mrs. Savage's rant to her children regarding the enormous wealth they expected to receive upon her passing. Her friends snickered on the sidelines, while the seniors present sent her pained sidelong glances.  
  
Amita was the first to ascend the stage and deliver a passage as Mrs. Paddy. She read her lines with passion, although she stammered whenever she looked away from her paper for too long. Her friends broke into wild applause as she finished with shy flourish, taking of her wig as she swept into a bow. Later, after several other contenders, Daphne found a teddy bear in the prop case and went for the part of the play where Mrs. Savage tells the residents at the sanitorium about her horrible stepchildren. As opposed to Amita, Daphne showed no signs of nervousness, falling comfortably into the role as she read with remarkable sincerity, and emotions that were far more believable than what any of the other hopeful auditioners had procured.  
  
Tammy took stage next, smiling sweetly at the crowd before reading for Florence Williams, the unofficial 'mother' of the residents in the play, a woman who dotes on a doll in the belief that it is her five-year-old son, Thomas, who in reality is nothing but a doll. She played the role with surprising conviction, and upon finishing the group of friends were once more on their feet, cheering wildly for their own doting friend. Lou simply nodded and smiled beside Debbie, looking much like a proud parent as Tammy bounced off the stage.  
  
Then, a senior that Debbie was unfamiliar with, a girl who kept to herself and rarely smiled, took the stage. She was the very last to audition, and as she threw herself into an improvised rant in the role of Jeffrey, the delusional military pilot, the crowd went nearly completely silent. A cough was heard from the back of the room, and Debbie had to stop herself from laughing at the cliché of it all. As she looked to her left, she saw Lou covering her own mouth, undoubtedly for the same reason. When the girl finally finished, Miss Anderson ushered her off stage and took her place.  
  
"My, that was... quite stirring," she said with an audible breath of relief. "If that's the last one, let's hear it for all our auditioners. Everyone did so well!"  
  
And while she looked pointedly at the last auditioner, she lead the students in a round of applause, then reminded everyone that the cast list would be posted on Monday, in the arts building and the cafeteria.  
  
"Monday?" Daphne asked in despair. "I have to worry about this all weekend?"  
  
Rose threw an arm around her. "You'll get the part. You won't even have time to worry about it either, just think about the mountain of homework we've got to do this weekend!" she said cheerily as Daphne wilted further.  
  
" _Don't_ think of that," Debbie chided as they headed out of the auditorium towards the dining hall. "Think about our meeting tomorrow. I need you all to be sharp."  
  
That brightened Daphne's spirits. "Oh yeah? Big plans, boss?"  
  
"You know it. I've got some great stuff in store for..." she trailed off as she noticed Lou heading off by herself to the gym instead of dinner, and Debbie had an idea of what she might be going there to do. She thought of Lou, shedding her clothes for a pair of shorts and a sport bra, body tense and sweating... and shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Debbie disappeared into the cafeteria with her friends.  
  
Debbie arrived back at the dorm before Lou, and she felt an odd sense of anticipation waiting for her to return. She ignored it, though it was hard not to think of her as Debbie took off her charcoal-smudged shirt, stuffing it into her laundry bag. She was halfway through her homework when Lou returned in a white tank top and gym shorts, her skin flushed and her hair damp.  
  
Debbie opened her mouth to say something, but paused as Lou dropped her bag and ran her hands through her hair, the sight somehow distracting. "Um..." Debbie said out loud, trying to find her words again. "Did you at least eat something?"  
  
"Yeah," Lou said with a dismissive sigh. "This time they had left behind a nice, cold chicken filet and some very, very wet broccoli. I might lose a hundred pounds by the end of the school year."  
  
"You shouldn't do that," Debbie chided. "You need real food. Just show up for dinner, you can go to the gym anytime."  
  
Lou shrugged. "True," she conceded, her hands going to the hem of her tank top. She pulled it off and over her head, and Debbie could see a sheen of sweat on her bare skin I the dim light of their dorm room.  
  
"Are you going to take a shower?" Debbie asked needlessly.  
  
"No, Debs. I was thinking of just steaming in my own stench all night," Lou rolled her eyes, smirking at Debbie good-naturedly. "Yeah, I'm taking a shower. Why?"  
  
"I was just wondering if you were going first," Debbie lied quickly, although she wasn't entirely sure why she had asked at all.  
  
"Right," Lou twitched her mouth as if she wanted to smile but then let out a mirthless laugh instead. She was... embarrassed? "I'm sorry about going off on you earlier, by the way. I'm sure you're a great friend."  
  
"You're sorry?" it was Debbie's turn to smirk, although it soon morphed into a fully fledged smile. "I never thought I'd see the day."  
  
"Take the apology, Ocean."  
  
"I accept it," Debbie clapped her hands together in front of her chest and bowed deeply. "You truly are a generous woman, granting me your sincere apologies."  
  
"I'm starting to think I might understand your urge to tell me to shut up," Lou laughed, chest vibrating beneath the confines of her bra. Debbie watched her body move, unable to avert her eyes.  
  
"Go shower, I'll still be here to annoy you after."  
  
"And how I look forward to that, darling," Lou winked, before turning on her heels and disappearing into the bathroom.  
  
Later that night, when the lights were off and they were both curled up in their beds, Debbie wondered if Lou's apology had been what she had considered when she left for the gym. Lou didn't strike her as the apologetic type, and it sent a shock of warmth through Debbie's chest to know that she had apologized to her either way. That it had meant enough for her to make sure Debbie knew she was sorry. That _she_ meant enough.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The next day, she could hardly wait until school was over. She found herself writing down notes for the Ocean’s 7 meeting in her afternoon Advanced Math class, as Mad Dog discussed his childhood in great detail, somehow relating it to the mathematical theories of old, Greek philosophers. He told them about Pythagoras’ cup, and how it fit perfectly as a metaphor for her mother’s greed. Tammy and Constance repeatedly nudged her, Constance providing snarky commentary to Mad Dog’s already entertaining stories.  
  
In her last class of the day, Mrs. Cartier gave them a surprise test on the vocabulary terms they had worked with during the lecture on Wednesday. Debbie, a quick learner, knew most of the answers and flew through the test with ease. Afterward, Mrs. Cartier spent the rest of the class period going over prominent French individuals throughout history, and how they would be vital in their education on the different time periods. She warned them that their first real semester project would be starting up next week. There were five minutes left until the bell, when Debbie, sitting by the windows, noticed a movement in the bright sunlight outside. She glanced down to the ground below and saw Constance and Nine Ball, released early from class, giddy and making hand gestures related to smoking her way. She chuckled to herself, waving at them, a subtle movement of her fingers.  
  
Not subtle enough.  
  
“Miss Ocean!” Mrs. Cartier barked.  
  
Debbie quickly turned her head back to the front of the room. “Yes, Mrs. Cartier?” she answered quickly.  
  
“I’ll ask your mind not to leave the classroom while your body is still in it,” the teacher responded tensely. “This is the second time this week you haven’t been paying attention.”  
  
She glanced down at Debbie’s desk.  
  
“What’s this?” she said, reaching for Debbie’s page of notes, sitting on top of her open notebook.  
  
“Nothing,” Debbie quickly shut the notebook before Mrs. Cartier could snatch the paper away. “It’s nothing, just from my previous class. I wasn’t even looking at it.”  
  
Mrs. Cartier’s mouth grew thin. “Then why do you have it out?” she growled, even more incensed she had been denied the right to inspect Debbie’s things.  
  
“My bad, Mrs.” Debbie tried to muster her most compelling smile, hoping to ease Mrs. Cartier’s anger. “I won’t do it again.”  
  
She met the teacher’s gaze unblinklingly. Mrs. Cartier stared back, and then decided it wasn’t worth prolongign the matter, turning back to the classroom. She finally concluded the lesson, warning them that their topics and partners for the upcoming project would be assigned to them, and to be prepared for whatever and whoever they were landed with. She had a strict no-mercy policy.  
  
Debbie let out a breath of relief as they were dismissed, quickly scooping up her notebook and bag and hurrying out of the classroom before Mrs. Cartier could have the chance to ask her to stay behind. Lou caught up with her in the hallway.  
  
“Tell me, Deborah, what do you call the _opposite_ of a teacher’s pet?”  
  
“Apparently _you_ call it Deborah,” Debbie huffed. “Which you definitely did not get permission to do.”  
  
“I’m surprised you think I’d ask for permission,” Lou chuckled, bumping their shoulders together as they walked through the courtyard.  
  
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you-”  
  
“Oh _please_ ,” Lou loudly interrupted. “I can’t wait to hear how what happened in there was my fault _this_ time.”  
  
Debbie pursed her lips, half in annoyance and half in amusement at Lou’s challenge. “If you hadn’t caused the first two problems, Mrs. Cartier wouldn’t have such a poor impression of me.”  
  
“Do you think that interaction would have ended any differently if it were the first time?” Lou rolled her eyes.  
  
Debbie shrugged. “One strike is better than three.”  
  
“Two,” Lou corrected. “You didn’t get in trouble the first class, you were just laughed at.”  
  
“Thanks for the reminder,” Debbie curled her lip.  
  
“No problem, darling,” said Lou with satisfaction.  
  
Debbie said nothing more to her as they reached the dorm and went up to their room. Lou unlocked the door, and bowed with a sweeping gesture, urging Debbie to enter first. They set their school bags down on their beds, and Debbie began to ponder where she could get a whiteboard before their meeting would take place. Lou must’ve noticed her looking around in thought, because she quickly cut in.  
  
“What are you missing?” she asked.  
  
“Something to write on,” Debbie pursed her lips as she considered the stack of notepaper on her desk. “I need something we can all see at once.”  
  
Lou perked up, smiling. “Don’t worry about it, princess. I’ve got you covered.”  
  
And with those words, she left the room, leaving Debbie puzzled, curious, and a tad bit concerned.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It wasn’t until just before dinner that night, that Lou returned. Into the room she carried an easel from art class, and a stack of A3 papers that were currently threatening to fall to the ground at the faintest gust of wind. Debbie hurried to her side, grabbing the papers and placing them on her desk. Lou set down the easel and dusted off her hands, smiling triumphantly.  
  
“What do you say? Am I a genius or what?”  
  
“Looking past the fact that this is definitely not supposed to leave the arts building,” Debbie gestured towards the easel, “it’s actually good thinking.”  
  
“I’ll put it back once the meeting is done, don’t worry about it,” Lou waved her hand dismissively. “For now, let’s focus on the part where _you_ admitted that _I_ did something good.”  
  
“You did good,” Debbie nodded, before smiling at Lou, who looked surprised at the lack of a snarky retort, but also satisfied with the praise.  
  
“We make a good team,” the blonde said, sitting down her bed to take off her chelsea boots.  
  
As Lou laid down to rest, Debbie started picking through her clothes, deciding on an appropriate outfit. She pulled out a black silk blouse, eyes skimming over it as she considered her options. Settling on that particular shirt, she looked down at her current outfit, deciding that the black jeans she were already wearing would be fine. She was about to change into the shirt right there, considering Lou changed in the room unabashedly everyday, but at the last second Debbie shied and quickly disappeared into the bathroom before unbuttoning her shirt.  
  
“Not that you don’t look smoking,” Lou commented idly when Debbie emerged from the bathroom, “but you also look like a proper crime boss. Very inconspicuous.”  
  
Debbie simply rolled her eyes, not bothering with a reply. She opted to accept the poorly concealed compliment instead, revelling in the warm feeling that flooded her lungs.  
  
“Had I known we were supposed to _look_ criminal, I would’ve changed,” Lou continued playfully, tugging at her own button up and vest combo.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Debbie said. “You already look like you’d charge extra for shoes in a bowling alley, and never wash them anyways.”  
  
“That’s the kind of criminal you think I am?” Lou gasped dramatically. “I need to switch up my style, it seems.”  
  
“You could also be a low profile pimp in the outskirts of Las Vegas,” Debbie kept going, laughing as Lou looked increasingly offended. “Luring in customers with ‘one for the price of two’ specials.”  
  
“Do keep going.”  
  
“Or maybe, you ride around the country on a motorcycle, tricking rich women into falling in love with you and your rebel ways, until you get what you want and move on to the next one.”  
  
“Women?” Lou’s brows flew to her hairline, and Debbie’s mouth twitched uncomfortably.  
  
“Yeah, cause you’re obviously…” Debbie trailed of, simply drawing a circle around Lou with her finger.  
  
“Straight?”  
  
“N-no, you’re…” panic struck Debbie, and her hand fell limp to her side. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, no words escaping her as she breathed hard. “You’re not…”  
  
“Gay?” Lou erupted in laughter, a deep, growl like noise that began in the very pit of her stomach and flowed from her lips like wine. “Of course I am. You should’ve seen your face though.”  
  
Debbie stalked grumpily to her bed, grabbing her pillow and throwing it straight at Lou. Lou caught it in both hands, having expected her plan of attack. “Not funny.”  
  
“I thought it was quite funny, actually,” Lou smiled sweetly, although laughter was still threatening to tumble from within.  
  
Debbie walked to her, grabbing her pillow forcefully from Lou’s open hands. She muttered underneath her breath, a string of incoherent curses that would make the pope blush, or perhaps even develop an aneurysm. Lou reached out and grabbed Debbie’s wrist, just as Debbie was about to trod away from her. Debbie scoffed, turning around to face Lou. Her brows raised, lips drawn tight, she looked at her as if to ask ‘what?’, not too enthusiastic about their close proximity. Lou simply pulled her in closer, releasing her wrist only so she could grab her hand instead.  
  
“I’m gay, Debs,” she repeated. She looked nervous, excited, and perhaps a little scared. It would be endearing, had Debbie’s heart not been pounding erratically at the implications of her words, her cheeks reddening, and a tension headache developing from the strain she had to put on herself to keep from reaching out to Lou. She wasn’t sure whether Lou was trying to imply something deeper, or if she was merely seeking acceptance, a confirmation that Debbie didn’t mind, didn’t find her repulsive.  
  
“I know,” was all she could think to say, and for the sake of comfort she squeezed Lou’s hand twice, hoping to erase any and all fears Lou might have regarding her views on the matter. “I know.”  
  
“Good,” Lou breathed deeply, releasing Debbie’s hand and regaining her confident smile. “Just making sure, and all that.”  
  
“Right, yeah,” Debbie nodded, thankful for the release of tension that Lou was attempting to establish. “No worries. About that. A lot of worries about you in general, but not that.”  
  
While it seemed that Lou was prepared to slip back into another round of good-natured banter, the universe had other plans. More specifically, Rose and Tammy, had other plans. They knocked thrice on the door, but didn’t wait for a reply to enter. They simply did, Tammy leading the way with Rose following right behind her. Tammy settled into Debbie’s desk chair, while Rose sat at the foot of the bed, huffing as her dress got caught beneath her own two feet. Lou relocated, moving to sit on Debbie’s bed. She sat by the headboard, grabbing Debbie’s pillow and resting it against her chest as she leaned forward to talk to Tammy. Meanwhile, Rose addressed Debbie.  
  
“I think you’ve officially become Mrs. Cartier’s least favourite student,” she said conversationally.  
  
“Tell me about it,” Debbie said with a roll of her eyes. “She has it out for me.”  
  
“Maybe,” Rose shrugged. “Or maybe, you just forgot how to charm the teachers. I don’t recall you getting into any trouble until this year.”  
  
“Hmm,” Debbie looked pointedly at Lou, who was blissfully oblivious to her attention. “I wonder why.”  
  
It were only a matter of minutes before the rest of the girls had all filed in, spreading themselves on Debbie’s bed and on the floor beside it. Lou kept the pillow tugged beneath her arm, commenting on the fact that they all looked like the saddest bunch of ninjas she had ever seen, before casually joking around with Constance. If she wasn’t mistaken, Debbie thought she heard the outline of some sort of bet regarding their Favorable Five, the poor freshmen that had been exposed to their ‘voodoo’. Rose leaned into Daphne who settled in by her side, although they refrained from any excessive touching, well aware that no one needed to see that.  
  
“Alright, ladies,” Debbie said importantly, standing in front of the easel, which had been set up with the A3 papers and a permanent marker. “Let’s get this show on the road.”  
  
“What about dinner?” Constance asked, raising her hand.  
  
“We’ll eat later.”  
  
“That sucks,” the girl grumbled, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed.  
  
“You know what doesn’t suck though?” Lou nudged her side with a devilish smile. “Money.”  
  
“Exactly,” Debbie nodded, shooting Lou with a grateful look, earning a thumbs up in return. “Now, we’ve got two projects this year. One easy, one… not so much.”  
  
“Let’s go easy first,” Tammy suggested.  
  
Debbie flipped over the first sheet of paper, revealing a set of notes and tasks written upon the second one. She pointed to the word at the very top of the paper.  
  
“Poker.”  
  
She allowed the rest of the girls to look at the paper before she continued her explanation.  
  
“We’ll set up a league in the basement, where the school keeps all the props for the play. Whoever gets in the play will have easy opportunity to get down there and do some preparations. Lou will already be down there, because she is going to be working on the sets. Furniture will be easy, since it’s already down there, and if there aren’t enough chairs, I’m sure there’s other stuff we can use.”  
  
“How do we get people in?” Amita, sitting down on the floor in front of Debbie, asked.  
  
“We’ll be playing after dark, so no one knows we’re missing. The teacher’s will have gone home, and we’ll have a key.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Constance,” Debbie nodded in the girl’s direction, “will make sure we get one. It should be easy for you.”  
  
“Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,” Constance confirmed, grinning.  
  
“Now, Lou and I will be in charge of the actual game. But we need the rest of you to play too, although not all at the same time. We want people to feel welcome, like they have a shot. They won’t if we’re all there at once,” Debbie pointed to the bullet point that read ‘discretion’. “We want it to be subtle, make it seem like those of us who play aren’t at an advantage.”  
  
“I don’t know how to play poker,” Amita spoke up once again, looking sheepish.  
  
“No worries,” Debbie was quick to reassure her. “We’ll need someone to spread the word, but to make sure it doesn’t leak to anyone who might tell on us. A sort of bouncer, you could say.”  
  
“And who would that be?”  
  
“You,” Debbie pointed to Amita. “And Nine Ball.”  
  
“Why I gotta be the mean one?” Nine Ball complained, leaning back into Tammy’s legs as she sat in front of the desk chair.  
  
“Because, people respect you. And they’re a little afraid of you,” it seemed logical enough to Debbie. “Amita is trustworthy, so that’s a strength for her. You, however, are already in with the people who are willing to keep it a secret, the girls around here who actually want to live a little.”  
  
It was no secret that Nine Ball dealt her fair share of weed at the school, but she had never once been sold out or caught. She had an impressive ability to stay hidden, despite her eye catching appearance and her remarkable attitude. She was always mellow, relaxed. It was something that had infuriated many teachers during her high school career, as they deemed her indifferent, and at times even unintelligent. Yet she had the sharpest mind Debbie had ever had the pleasure of knowing.  
  
“What about a scoring system? So we can see which girls win the most, and all that stuff,” Nine Ball asked. “We’ll know who we gotta watch out for.”  
  
“Great idea,” Debbie nodded, writing it down onto the paper. They debated the project for another fifteen minutes, making sure the details were clear to everyone, and that everyone understood their role in the endeavor. Then she moved on to the more complicated con.  
  
“Now,” she said, switching out the A3 sheet for another one, this one too littered with her own notes. “Lilly Arnault.”  
  
“ _Arachne_ ,” Lou spoke beneath her breath. Debbie fixed her with a silencing glare, making sure she knew that now was no time for jokes.  
  
“Her father is Bernard Arnault, billionaire extraordinaire. He’s one of the richest men in the world, and we’re going to take advantage of that,” Debbie stated.  
  
“Okay,” Tammy nodded slowly, taking in the words. “How do we go about doing that?”  
  
“We befriend her. Make her trust us,” writing down as she spoke, Debbie smiled. “We need to create a club, and we need to lure her into being a member. Once she is in, and has spent some time with all of us, we tell her we need funding for club business. Like transportation for excursions and such.”  
  
“Won’t she know if what we do spend money on isn’t worth the amount of money she’s given us?” Tammy questioned.  
  
“Please,” Daphne scoffed. “She’s thirteen. She doesn’t know what money is worth, she just knows her dad has a lot of it.”  
  
“Exactly,” Debbie nodded excitedly. “She won’t know what hits her, and I’m betting her dad doesn’t take the time to ask how his money is benefitting a club at her school. He’ll just pay, no questions asked.”  
  
“And if he doesn’t?” Rose piped up.  
  
“Then we tell her the club can’t keep running without funding,” it seemed like a foolproof plan. “And if he still refuses, we abolish the club and focus on poker solely. It’ll make us a good amount of money, even if Lilly won’t.”  
  
“You’re a genius, boss,” Constance said approvingly.  
  
Debbie exchanged a look with Lou, knowing full well that what she had presented were solely her ideas. Lou simply smiled softly and nodded, as if telling her to take credit, letting her know that she needed none. There was no resentment in her gaze, just admiration and _joy_. Genuine joy.  
  
“No disagreeing on that,” Debbie smirked.  
  
She made a brief closing statement, promising that the Lilly Arnault plan would be fleshed out further within the coming weeks, and that she aimed to make whatever club they did invent be something that didn’t interfere with soccer nor theater. With the cafeteria open another 20 minutes, they all headed down to eat, although Lou stayed behind, claiming to have other, more pressing plans.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It had grown colder outside by the time Debbie made her way through the courtyard, hugging her arms around herself, her blouse not thick enough to keep out the chill of the night air. When she arrived back in the room, the lump in Lou’s bed let her know that Lou was buried inside, and confirmed her suspicions that Lou hadn’t gone to dinner at all.  
  
“Do you not get hungry at all?” she asked casually, closing the door behind her with a soft thud.  
  
Lou sat up from the blankets, looking a rumpled mess. She was dressed in a black tank top, and her hair was sticking in every direction imaginable.Even she looked confused at to why she was in bed, and how exactly she had gotten there.  
  
“No,” she mumbled, words catching on tired lips. “I went to the gym.”  
  
“You’re unbelievable,” Debbie hid her concern behind a disbelieving smirk. Then she looked at Lou with conviction in her eyes, locking their eyes together. “You’re coming to dinner with us tomorrow.”  
  
“Whatever you say, darling,” Lou laid back down, stretching her lean arms above her head, her toes poking out from the foot of her covers.  
  
Debbie moved to Lou’s side of the room, sitting down in her desk chair and rolling close to her bed, letting her sock clad feet hit her mattress, right in front of Lou’s closed eyes. Lou’s eyes flew open, and she grabbed Debbie’s feet and shoved them off her bed.  
  
“Ass,” she groaned, face drawn in displeasure.  
  
“I just wanted to talk,” Debbie smirked. “Figured I’d wake you up first.”  
  
“Consider me awake,” Lou said, rolling onto her side, propping her head on her hand and looking curiously at Debbie.  
  
“Thanks for letting me take the lead at the meeting, by the way,” a small smile graced Debbie’s features, and Lou returned the gesture with sincerity.  
  
“No worries.”  
  
“The girls really trust me,” Debbie tried to explain, although she was struggling to define the line between leader and friend, that she walked so skillfully when it came to her friends. “It helped, is all I’m saying.”  
  
“I’ve got you,” Lou scratched her shoulder absentmindedly as she spoke. “You can trust me.”  
  
“Right,” Debbie nodded, finding herself disturbed at the fact that she was actually starting to believe she could. She had known Lou for a matter of days, and it was scary to think that she had already made such a large impact on Debbie. Needless to say, she wasn’t one who gave her trust away freely, having learned from a young age that trust was the most valuable thing in the world - but also the thing most often abused. Had Lou really earned her trust already?  
  
“Yet you don’t,” Lou sighed and turned onto her back, looking at Debbie out of the corner of her eye.  
  
“It’s not that easy,” there were so many things Debbie couldn’t explain, even if she wanted to. And this was just one of those things.  
  
“I know,” Lou smiled, albeit a little sadly. But Debbie believed her. She believed that Lou knew exactly what she was saying, even if she wasn’t saying it explicitly. A sense of kinship engulfed her, because even as Lou asked for her trust, she didn’t explicitly give Debbie hers.  
  
“We’ll get there,” Debbie promised. “I can see us going places.”  
  
“Places? How about _bases_?”  
  
“Can it,” laughter bubbled from her chest. “We won’t be that kind of partners.”  
  
“Partners, huh?” Lou’s smile was small, a barely there twitch of her lips, yet it spoke volumes of the joy she felt at Debbie’s words.  
  
“Yeah,” Debbie nodded, her own cheeks aching from the smile on her face.  
  
“I like that,” Lou agreed, sighing. “We’re making progress.”  
  
“I’m glad you’re here,” Debbie admitted, laughing as Lou turned her head to look at her with an expression of exaggerated amazement, as if she had just been told that there was life on Jupiter. “Don’t even say anything.”  
  
Lou shook her head, and pretended to zip her lips closed, although she was challenged by the huge grin plastered on her face at Debbie’s sudden confession. Debbie stood, and patted Lou’s leg as she turned to walk towards her own bed. Instead of changing in the bathroom as she had did on other days, she opted to pull off her shirt in the room, feeling Lou’s eyes on her as she moved swiftly. She was quick to put on a t-shirt for sleeping in, but the burn of Lou’s gaze didn’t fade immediately. She turned around, raising a brow at Lou who was watching her in complete silence. Without a word, Debbie stepped into the bathroom.  
  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Later that night, after Debbie had clambered into bed, she found herself tossing and turning, restless. Lou hadn’t moved since Debbie had returned from the bathroom, and Debbie had thought she must have simply fallen asleep. But all of a sudden, she heard a pathetic whimpering, like that of a wounded animal, and she sighed.  
  
“Lou,” she said, half exasperated, half exhausted.  
  
“What?” Lou grunted, her voice gruff, and Debbie heard her pulling the blankets off of her head.  
  
“Are you crying?” Debbie asked, wondering if she should go to her and attempt to exert some sort of comfort.  
  
“I’m definitely not crying,” Lou sat up straight this time, her eyes shining as the moonlight reflected in the swirling blue pools.  
  
“Then…” Debbie waited, and the noise from before returned. “What is _that_?”  
  
It continued. The sharp intake of breath, a low moan.  
  
“That’s not me,” Lou said, this time more alert, sounding curious. It wasn’t a lie. Debbie heard the whimpers and Lou’s words at the same time then.  
  
She sat up in bed, concerned. “Who is that, then?”  
  
“Ah!” came the voice. It wasn’t a cry of sadness. It was a cry of pleasure.  
  
Debbie’s eyes widened, and she heard a snort of laughter from Lou’s bed.  
  
“ _No_ ,” Debbie said in disbelief, kicking off the covers and going to the door. She had heard people doing things of that nature before, but never that blatantly loud, and certainly not in the dorms. Did they want the whole floor to hear?  
  
She opened the door and poked her head out suspiciously, and with a start she realized that Lou had followed and was right behind her. The hallway was as dark as their room, and they stood there holding their breath, listening. It wasn’t long before the next audible gasp, coming from directly in front of them. Rose and Tammy’s room. Were Daphne and Rose...  
  
Debbie marched forward, wondering if she should knock, what to say, when the next sound clued her in for a second shock. That wasn’t Rose making those noises. Nor was it Daphne. Incensed, she put her hands to the door frame and leaned in, heart beating wildly, with Lou right beside her pressing her own ear to the door.  
  
“Tell me I’m pretty,” a familiar voice begged.  
  
“You are,” a second voice answered plainly.  
  
“I am?” A soft purr.  
  
“Oh… my god,” Debbie whispered in realization, jerking away from the door, feeling dazed.  
  
“Oh my god,” Lou repeated back, sounding far more amused. Her face was barely visible, only a shape in the darkness.  
  
“That’s _Tammy_ ,” Debbie hissed, as if Lou should know this was not a laughing matter. She raised her hand up in a fist, ready to bang on the door.  
  
Lou’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with strong fingers. “What are you doing?” she asked in a low whisper.  
  
“I need to find out what’s going on in there,” Debbie said firmly, attempting to wrench her wrist away. Lou simply gripped her tighter.  
  
“Wait,” Lou’s lips quirked into an amused smile. “Listen.”  
  
The noises on the other side of the door continued, increasing in volume. Debbie’s face fell in realization as the voice that didn’t belong to Tammy returned. She looked at Lou, who nodded in confirmation.  
  
“This is insane,” Debbie raised her hand once more, taking advantage of Lou’s loosened grip and knocking authoritatively on the door.  
  
Abruptly the noises on the other side of the door stopped, although Debbie thought she heard a panicked scrabble right before the silence.  
  
“Tammy,” Debbie insisted. “Get out here.”  
  
“Come on, Debs,” Lou said, still whispering. She slipped her hand into the crook of Debbie’s arm, tugging her gently towards the room. “They know we’ve heard. They’ll quiet down.”  
  
“You’re right, I know,” Debbie sighed in defeat, knowing she had acted far too impulsively.  
  
There were footsteps and the door swung open. The figure of Tammy peered out, trying to make out the shapes in the hall.  
  
“Debbie?” she asked tentatively.  
  
“And yours truly,” Lou added unhelpfully.  
  
“So, uh…” Tammy started sheepishly.  
  
“A little loud, aren’t we Tam-Tam?” Debbie asked casually.  
  
“Sorry,” Tammy whispered, although it was a little too late for her to turn quiet.  
  
“Hey girls,” they were joined by Tammy’s companion, and Debbie shook her head with a silent chuckle as she watched Nine Ball lean against the doorframe, wearing a black robe that Debbie knew to be Rose’s.  
  
“Hello, Leslie,” Lou grinned, greeting her with a joking salute.  
  
“Out here taking a walk or what?” Nine Ball nodded towards Lou’s hand, still holding onto Debbie. Debbie rolled her shoulders to free herself from Lou’s grip.  
  
“No,” she huffed. “We were trying to sleep, but we heard this _weird_ noise.”  
  
“I know, I know,” Tammy held out her hands in apology, blushing furiously. “We’ll stop it, I promise. I’m so sorry guys.”  
  
“I’m not,” Nine Ball added. Tammy threw her hand back to slap her on the shoulder, glaring at her for all of a second.  
  
“So, we’ll just be going back to bed, right, Debs?” Lou aimed for a casual tone, although her tone was tinged with unreleased laughter.  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Debbie nodded, although she fixed Tammy with a look of warning.  
  
“I’m sorry, Debs,” Tammy said through a tight smile, looking close to tears.  
  
Debbie finally gave in to the laughter building in her chest. As soon as her own laugh echoed through the hall, it was joined by Lou’s raspier chuckle, and even Nine Ball had to cover her mouth as she snickered at Tammy’s tomato red face.  
  
“Where’s Rose anyways?” Lou wondered out loud, once she regained her composure.  
  
“Daphne’s room,” Nine Ball inclined her head to the left, indicating the door a few rooms down.  
  
“Amita?”  
  
“She’s stuck with Constance for the night,” Tammy entered the conversation, looking a lot less panicked now that the focus was off her and Nine Ball.  
  
“Poor girl,” Debbie sighed. “You’d think she’d be the one making loud noises.”  
  
“Quiet sex is bad sex,” Nine Ball said, winking at Tammy, who once again blushed furiously.  
  
“And that is our cue to leave, isn’t it?” Debbie turned to Lou, and Lou nodded, placing a hand at the small of her back and turning her back towards their own room. She then looked to Nine Ball and mouthed ‘good job, dude’, leaving Tammy embarrassed and Nine Ball looking more smug than ever.  
  
When they were back in the room, they both burst into laughter, Lou’s arm resting on Debbie’s shoulder as she doubled over. Once they were all laughed out, Lou turned and shut the door.  
  
“That was… unexpected,” Debbie said, sitting down on the edge of her bed.  
  
“I mean, good for them,” Lou chuckled, moving to her own side of the room.  
  
“I didn’t know they even ever spent time alone.”  
  
“Safe to say, they definitely do.”  
  
“It’s strange,” Debbie sighed, throwing her legs up onto the bed and laying down. “They’re so different.”  
  
“Sometimes you can’t help who you’re attracted to. You might not even like them,” Lou shrugged, copying Debbie’s moves. “But somehow you can’t help thinking about them even when you try not to.”  
  
Debbie let the words sink in, feeling suddenly uncomfortable that she might be right. And that Lou might be suggesting something she didn’t have any right to know about within Debbie’s private thoughts. “Well, I wouldn’t give in. If it were me.”  
  
“Chemistry is a powerful force, darling.”  
  
“And you speak from experience?” Debbie asked, annoyed.  
  
“I know how it feels,” Lou said dismissively.  
  
Debbie huffed out a sigh. She was annoyed that her head was still swarming with unbidden thoughts.  
  
“I can’t even imagine what was going on behind that door,” she scoffed.  
  
“Based on the sounds, I’d say our dear friend Tammy was receiving oral.”  
  
Debbie could feel herself turning bright red, though thankfully Lou wouldn’t see in the darkness. “And _why_ would you know that?”  
  
Lou laughed at her accusing tone. “Well, aside from first hand experience, I’ve heard plenty of suspicious activity behind closed doors. Back home,” Lou’s tone turned dark, sending a shiver down Debbie’s back, “I went to parties rich girls like you wouldn’t dare set foot in.”  
  
“You don’t know what kinds of places I’ve been,” Debbie felt a flash of anger at the jab. Although she had never been to a party that hadn’t been hosted by family or family friends, yet alone one arranged by fellow students, she was not a child, nor was she inexperienced when it came to the harsh realities of the world.  
  
“I don’t,” Lou agreed. “But I’d like it if you told me.”  
  
“Maybe another day,” Debbie sighed, not in the least surprised to find herself as exhausted tonight as she had been every night for the past few days. As she lay there in the dark, listening to Lou’s soft breathing from the opposite side of the room, she came to the realization that it had not only been a trying few days, in addition, it had easily been one of the most entertaining weeks in her life. And she owed all that emotional turmoil to none other than the fiery blonde in the room with her.  
  
“Goodnight, Debbie,” Lou muttered, voice heavy as she fought against the slumber that was undoubtedly pulling at her every nerve.  
  
“Goodnight, partner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> As mentioned, it is a bit longer than the previous two, mostly because my brain was just flowing with ideas and I don't know how to edit my own work ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I would love to hear what you guys think of the story so far, and if you have any hopes for future chapters. I do my best to try and accommodate any wishes, so shoot your shot my loves.
> 
> See you for the next chapter ;)


	4. I Don't Read Lesbian Porn Novels, I Just Enjoy Art.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the city might be all that is needed to make a change. Or maybe it will introduce new obstacles to be beaten. Or maybe it won't make a difference at all. Either way, Debbie knows that whatever happens, Lou will more than likely be the cause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SO SORRY GUYS!
> 
> I've been suffering from the most heinous bout of author's block that I think I've ever experienced. This took me way too long to get out, because I just have not been able to get the words down.
> 
> I am somewhat proud of what I finally had to show for my work, and I hope you guys will enjoy it.
> 
> It's the shortest chapter yet, with the longest wait yet, but I hope there is something in there worth the wait...

It had grown colder that night, even though it was only September, and Debbie found herself not wanting to leave the comfort of the blankets when he woke. Besides, she hadn’t slept as much as she would have liked, after the disrupting occurrences of the night before. But it was Saturday, which meant the girls and her would be going into town, unless she missed the eleven o’clock bus. With that in mind, she kicked away the covers, fighting off the urge to stay in bed all morning.

 

Lou was still curled up under her blankets when Debbie emerged from the bathroom, showered and freshly dressed in a cozy sweater and jeans. She gazed thoughtfully for a moment, Lou having missed the invitation by not coming to dinner two days prior. It would not only be a shame to let Lou miss a trip to the town, it would also work against everything they had managed to build together so far.

 

“Lou,” Debbie called, pulling at the covers, revealing Lou’s barely dressed form.

 

“Mmf.”

 

“We’re going into town, get dressed. Bus leaves at eleven.”

 

“Right, right,” she grunted. She sat up sleepily, the blankets falling away completely. Debbie took an alarmed step back. When Lou had been up and around with her in the dead of night, her lack of clothes hadn’t bothered her in the slightest - but now, in the flittering rays of sun that bore with it the warmth of morning, the wide stretches of milky white skin seemed startling. Her muscles rippled beneath her skin as she stretched, committing herself to an extensive yawn that tightened her every muscle in a way that was far too tantalizing this close, this early in the morning.

 

Debbie turned away in a flutter, retrieving her coat from her closet. She heard the pads of Lou’s feet against the hardwood floor, and the closing of the bathroom door. Only then did her shoulders fall, untensing, and she sighed. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the edge of the open closet door, and swore beneath bated breath. She had woken up with a strange feeling in her chest, words and ghosts of touches swimming in her mind. It was if she couldn’t quite figure out what was going on around her, and she was losing control of those close to her. Lou, always unpredictable, was an obvious factor. But then there was Tammy’s keeping of secrets, and the fact that she and Nine Ball had been able to hide something so major from her. Or maybe it was that they hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her.

 

The sound of the shower being turned on pulled her from the confines of her own thoughts, and she rubbed her forehead as she stood up straight once more. It would do her no good to linger too long on thoughts that were beyond her understanding.

 

“Lou!” she called, grabbing her coat from her closet. She heard the water pressure being turned down.

 

“What?” a tired voice sounded from within the bathroom.

 

“I’m going to breakfast,” Debbie explained, putting on her coat, one arm first, then another. “You know where the bus stop is?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Lou responded, turning the water back up. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

Satisfied, Debbie left the room and headed through the courtyard, wrapping her coat tightly around herself in protection against the brisk morning air. As she headed towards the cafeteria, cold hands shoved in her pockets, she caught a faint, familiar scent on the air.  It was cinnamon, and it was clean and warm, and not her. It was Lou. She looked over her shoulder, for a moment convinced that Lou had followed her out, but realized I was her own hair that smelled like her roommate. She groaned, realizing she must have grabbed Lou's shampoo as opposed to her own that morning, the two bottles being the same shade of red, and similar in shape. How had she not noticed earlier? Then again, she had been in quite a hurry, eager to get on with the day, and put some distance between herself and her... friend? Roommate? Partner? Whatever Lou was, it was confusing.

 

Grabbing a strand of her hair from where it fell above her coat and holding it up to her nose, she inhaled deeply, She let herself enjoy the scent for just a few seconds, until she realized how strange she might have looked to any passerbys. It certainly wasn't her usual style to go around, sniffing herself - or anyone else for that matter. She let the strand of hair fall back into place, running her hand over it to smooth it down. It was supposed to smell good, it was shampoo for God's sake. Maybe if she grew tired of her own pomegranate and sunflower combo, she would pick something similar. With flushed cheeks, she went into the dining hall for breakfast.

 

Inside, she found all of the other girls already seated, engaged in animated conversation as Constance retold some sort of dramatic scene from the night before. Only when she had grabbed her own bowl cereal did Debbie get close enough to realize that Constance was in fact describing the encounter between Tammy, Nine Ball, Lou, and herself. She found she wasn't entirely impressed with Constance's parody of her own face once she realized that it was Nine Ball that was making Tammy erupt in such revealing sounds. Debbie sat her bowl down with a noticeable thud, and Constance immediately went quiet, smiling sheepishly at her.

 

"Good morning, boss," she greeted cheerfully. "Sleep good?"

 

"I think you know the answer to that question," Debbie raised her eyebrow at Constance, daring her to try and deny that she had heard something she was not invited to listen in on.

 

"I don't know," Constance shrugged, leaning onto the table with both elbows. "It went pretty quiet once you and hot Aussie went back to your room."

 

"Meaning?"

 

"You guys are real quiet when you do the deed."

 

Lowering the spoon that Debbie had just raised to her lips, Debbie looked at her with a deadly glare, having expected something along those lines from her 'dear friend'. "We don't do it."

 

"Not yet, you don't," Daphne said, hiding her mouth behind a croissant as she butted into the conversation. Rose did Debbie the favor of elbowing Daphne hard in the ribs, saving her the trouble.

 

"Debbie's not like that," she chided, giving Debbie a nod of solidarity.

 

"Rose is right," Tammy agreed, shooting Debbie a look very similar to Rose's. "Debbie's not the type. She's a closet romantic."

 

"I'm not a closet anything," Debbie rolled her eyes. "I'm just not into Lou, at all. We tolerate each other."

 

"Is that why we're the Ocean's 8 now?" Constance questioned, grinning in what was no doubt an attempt to appear innocent.

 

"Who's calling us that?" it was the first Debbie had heard of the name.

 

"Me," Constance confessed, before gesturing towards Amita, who so far had been trying to stay out of the conversation, picking at a fruit cup. "Me and Amita thought of it last night, while the rest of you were banging."

 

"I like it," Nine Ball contributed.

 

"We've known her for barely a week. I think it's safe to say that we shouldn't trust her just yet."

 

"Then why are you letting her in on the jobs?" Daphne asked.

 

"Because for some reason she knows who I am, she knows my family, and my uncle thinks she could be helpful," Debbie admitted. It was the first she had spoken of her Carmine's involvement in Lou's sudden appearance at the school.

 

"So you're just using her because your uncle told you that you should?" Tammy continued the questioning, and Debbie felt herself grow hot beneath the collar.

 

"Not just because of that," Debbie mumbled, looking into her cereal, feeling a little guilty for using Lou for personal gain. She knew there was more to it than that, and she was convinced Lou did too. "She came up with some good ideas. She deserves the chance. But she is definitely not part of the group. Not yet, anyways."

 

"She will be," Daphne said with great conviction. "Just wait and see. You'll grow to like her."

 

"I have to agree, Debbie," Rose shrugged apologetically. "I think you'll grow to love that girl."

 

"And I think you're all talking about something you don't know anything about."

 

It was much too early to have such conversations. Not to mention, it was far too uncomfortable a conversation to have on their first weekend of the school year, seeing as they had plans to just have fun today, putting aside all thoughts of cons and jobs. And it was far too uncomfortable a conversation for Debbie to have at all, especially with all of the girls at once. She made a mental note to have a chat with Tammy though, knowing that her best friend would never share their personal conversations with anybody, no matter what happened. She was the one person Debbie trusted the most, even above her own family. Mostly because Tammy had a good heart, and was by far the most sincere criminal Debbie had ever known.

 

The conversation shifted to far more pleasant subjects, about where they wanted to go in the city that day, and Nine Ball and Constance debated which bars they could probably trick their way into, ignoring all of Daphne's pleas to go to a club instead. Debbie hated to agree with those two, finding their antics at most times pointless and ridiculous. But, if she had to make the choice between bar and club, bar was definitely her go-to answer. Clubs were way too sweaty. Not to mention all the creepy guys that would try to approach them - especially the guys who were most definitely too old to be in a club in the first place.

 

“But  _ dancing _ ,” Daphne whined.

 

“But  _ perverts _ ,” Debbie parodied her, making the others laugh heartily.

 

“Oh come on, as if there are any less perverts in a damn bar.”

 

“They’re easier to spot if you’re not surrounded by gyrating bodies on all sides.”

 

“You guys are boring,” Daphne said, throwing her head back and groaning loudly, earning a few puzzled stares from the other students in the cafeteria.

 

Yet she dropped the subject, resigning herself to her inevitable fate.

 

Soon after, they all wandered out of the building, having eaten their fill of cereal and pastries, and other somewhat pleasing breakfast items. They headed to the bus stop just around the corner from the school, where a large group of girls were already standing, waiting impatiently. All were eager to leave the school and take some time off for activities not approved of within the confines of the place. No doubt most of them would try to get into bars, some would spend hours walking around and enjoying the freedom of being able to smoke, while only a few went just to buy sweets and other necessities.

 

Lou was nowhere to be seen, and Debbie found she was not surprised in the slightest. Ignoring the fear that her roommate might not make it to the bus on time, Debbie leaned against the shed that had been build to protect those waiting at the bus stop from the unpredictable weather of New York.

 

From down the street Debbie heard the familiar sputtering of the bus engine, even before she could see it. It came to a full stop in front of the group of students, and people immediately fought to get inside.

 

When Debbie entered the bus, leading with her girls behind her, she zoomed in on a pair of freshmen girls occupying the seats at the very back. Her brows furrowed. Those were their seats. She strutted confidently down, passing by rows upon rows of excited teenage girls. The air was thick with anticipation, every single one of them thrilled to be free for the day. 

 

Upon reaching the two girls, Debbie merely looked at them, crossing her arms. Her back was straight, her jaw was set, and she exuded power. It took no more than a second beneath her unfaltering gaze for the girls to scramble to their feet, and rushing to seats further ahead in the bus. Debbie turned to her friends, bowing dramatically as she presented them with their designated seats. Tammy, Amita and herself settled in three of the four seats at the very back, while Daphne, Rose, Nine Ball and Constance settled into each their pair of seats right in front of the back row.

 

“There’s still a seat back here,” Debbie stated, somewhat confused as to why the seat on her left was left unoccupied. It was a window seat, after all, and usually Constance would fight for a seat like that. Instead the girl sat with her legs kicking out into passage between seats, grinning like the cheshire cat. It was unsettling.

 

“Uh-huh,” Constance nodded wildly. “Sure is.”

 

“Then why are you and Nine Ball not fighting for it?”

 

“Because of your hot-”

 

Her explanation was cut short as the sound of the doors closing began, only to be cut short by the sudden interruption of a coat covered arm. It was replaced by the sound of chelsea boots with a chunky heel against the floor of the bus, and a mumbled apology to the patient bus driver. Down the aisle walked none other than Lou, wearing an obnoxious cheetah print coat that reached to her knees, a pair of sunglasses perched upon her head. She looked at the girls from the grades below her with a suitable amount of disdain, expect for the respecting nod she send Lilly Arnault’s way. Playing the game subtly, Debbie noted. Clever.

 

It was no surprise that Lou came to the back of the bus, having spotted their group the instance she stepped through the doors. Constance leaned in just before she reached them, whispering to Debbie.

 

“Because of  _ that _ .”

 

With those words Debbie was able to finish Constance’s fragment of an explanation herself, having recalled those words being used to describe Lou on several occasions the past week. The  _ hot roommate _ . Said roommate was now stood before her, in an outfit that demanded attention. Yet something told Debbie that Lou was wearing it simply because she liked it, no matter how hard Debbie found it to believe that anybody genuinely liked cheetah print.

 

Lou gave her a brief, questioning glance, inclining her head towards the empty seat beside her. With a nearly imperceptible nod, Debbie invited her to sit down, and Lou promptly did so, assuming what was apparently her natural sitting position - meaning, whichever position required the most available space. Her knee and thigh ended up pressed flush against Debbie’s, while the arm she braced against the back of the seat fell just short of touching Debbie’s shoulder.

 

“Nice of you to join us,” she remarked dryly.

 

“Pleasure is all mine, I’m sure,” Lou grinned.

 

“Oh no, quite the opposite,” Tammy was quick to speak, “we’re all quite happy you’re here after all. For a second we thought you decided against it.”

 

“And miss out on a day with my favorite girls?” Lou gasped. “Never.”

 

“Aww, you really can’t resist us,” Daphne purred, turning around in her seat, perched on her knees, resting her elbows on the top of her seat. Rose adopted a similar position, while Constance remained seated on the very edge of her seat, swinging her legs back and forth in the aisle. Nine Ball had long since checked out, putting on a pair of headphones and zoning out as she played with her phone.

 

“That implies that I’ve been trying to,” Lou wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Debbie swore she saw a blush on Tammy’s cheeks.

 

“I’d hope you can keep it in your pants, Miller,” Debbie chuckled.

 

“Why? You’d be jealous if I didn’t?”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” rolling her eyes at Lou for what seemed like the millionth time, Debbie felt the engine kick to life, and saw the buildings move as their journey into the city began, “Just don’t try to sneak anyone into our room, if you want to escape the wrath of a woman robbed of her beauty sleep.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The roar of the city was remarkable, as men in suits walked briskly through crowds of indifferent college students and wandering housewives lost in the bustle of New York at noon. Restaurant owners stood on each their side of the street, shouting to their rivals from their respective sidewalks. Studying pupils perched on every other set of stairs, laughing within their own little bubble of hope for good to come with the approaching future.

 

“Where to first?” Debbie wondered aloud, stepping out of the bus and moving a little further down the street as to let others occupy the bus stop.

 

“Oh!” Tammy exclaimed, smiling excitedly. “There’s this book store I really want to go to. They’ve got some super rare books, and some of their stuff is so old they had to fight for ownership with the antique store across the street from them.”

 

“Sure, let’s go look at the musty old books,” Constance’s voice dripped with fake enthusiasm. “Not like there are better things to do in New York city.”

 

“Nah,” Nine Ball played along. “We love old, musty bundles of paper.”

 

Tammy looked slightly dejected at the abrupt rejection of her genuine proposal, and Debbie found herself feeling sympathetic towards her best friend. Even though she was apparently sort of dating Nine, the two were still so very different. This only served to solidify that notion.

 

“I’ll go with you,” she smiled, and Tammy looked grateful, folding her hands as if to pray, mouthing ‘thank you’ repeatedly.

 

“Count me in,” Lou nodded. She had pushed her ridiculously large sunglasses down, and although the glasses hid nearly half her face from view, her supportive smile was still visible. It was good, Debbie tried to reason with herself as she felt a tight coiling in her stomach. Tammy needed bolstering.

 

“Maybe they’ll have some rare geology books I haven’t read yet.” Amita said.

 

“Whatever,” Nine Ball remarked dryly,  throwing her arm around Constance. “Sounds boring.”

 

“We’ll meet up at Central Park at 3 pm, as usual,” Debbie reminded the two.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Constance said as she bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet. “See you losers later.”

 

With that the pair was gone, leaving the others to decide on a course of action. Daphne and Rose stood still, hands brushing by their sides. Finally, Daphne stepped forward, interrupting Debbie and Tammy, who were discussing the easiest way to get where Tammy wanted to be.

 

“Listen, guys, as much as we  _ love _ books and all that,” Daphne said, talking through her teeth, “we’d much rather  _ not _ go do  _ that _ .” She gestured towards the four of them, standing huddled together.

 

“Daph, I’m not your actual boss,” Debbie reminded her. “Go do whatever you guys want to.”

 

“Right, of course,” Daphne grinned. “We’re independent women.”

 

They said their goodbyes and parted ways, Rose and Daphne no doubt heading to somewhere they could engage in more  _ private _ activities. Just the thought of it made Debbie shudder. She was more than a little tired of being included in her friends most private of lives, be it hearing it, or just having the idea of their actions imprinted on her thoughts.

 

Their little quartet strolled throughout the city, stopping at various shops to look at the wide selections of items available for purchase. Amita demanded they stop at every jewelry store on their way, marvelling at the effort with which the jewellers manipulated every single rough stone into a piece of wearable art. She was utterly fascinated by the process, and multiple times the others would have to physically drag her from the store windows, as to prevent her from lingering there all day. They had places to be, books to see.

 

Debbie, on the other hand, had to admit that she was not above making her own sudden stops. Whenever a particular fashion store would emerge on the horizon, she would debate whether or not a stop would be necessary. Most often, it was. She couldn’t help it that she was dedicated to style. People took a better liking to people who were properly dressed, and being liked was crucial when one wanted to manipulate others. To be fair though, she rarely stopped for more than thirty seconds, her own impatience upon waiting for the others a reminder that she was not the only one there, and they deserved to stand and wait as little as she did.

 

Tammy stopped only when she stumbled upon lavishly decorated interior design stores, uh-ing and ah-ing as she painted vivid pictures of what she wanted her house to look like when she bought one. How she would combine her own taste with that of whoever would be living there with her, all the while making it as kid-accessible as possible. There were no sharp corners to be found in her imagination, nor were there any bar stools or kitchen islands to be falling from. She dreamed more of the future than she had ever dreamt of the present.

 

Lou was the only one who didn’t stop. Whenever she passed by a shop that caught her interest she simply nodded to herself and surveyed their surroundings, as if to commit the placement of the building to memory, to be accessed another time. Debbie took notice of the shops to which Lou would react ever so subtly. They were quite random - a vintage clothing store, a record store, a high end jewelry store, even a somewhat sketchy looking liquor store with large, tarp covered windows and a crooked neon sign which read ‘open’. A single window remained uncovered, and through the smudged glass one could spot a large, bearded gentleman, picking his teeth with his pocket knife. He was surrounded by shelves filled with beer and liquor, a few which looked as if they were threatening to topple over any second. Her interests were certainly varied.

 

It took them a good while to get to the bookstore, as Tammy proceeded to steer them in the wrong direction, somehow managing to lose complete track of where they were without even moving more than a block at a time. It would have been impressive, were it not so frustratingly time consuming.

 

A sign above the door read ‘Frederick’s Rare Books’, and although the sign was crooked, the place oozed with charm. The interior was warm and inviting, lined wall to wall with books of varying sizes and colors. It was set up much like a living room in the front, with a huge, brick lined fireplace that looked as if it had not been used since the 18th hundred. In front of the fireplace a large, brown leather couch and a matching pair of recliners were sat, facing one another. Once you walked past the seating area, there were several more rows of shelves with books. It was an impressive collection, with first editions and signed copies in glass cases by the counter.

 

“Wow,” Amita breathed as soon as they were inside. Tammy nodded in silent agreement, mouth open in awe as she stood still, admiring the endless rows of literature. Lou expressed her own sense of inferiority within such a collection of knowledge, and told them that she would be going to the record store on the other side of the street, but would rejoin them as soon as she had found what she was looking for. No one objected, too busy marvelling at their surroundings. It was only when the sound of Lou’s shoes faded into nothing that they shook themselves from their stupor.

 

“Well, ladies,” Debbie said. “Let’s get looking.”

 

“Anything in particular you’re looking for, Tam-Tam?” Amita questioned the awe-struck blonde.

 

“No,” she mumbled absentmindedly, still looking around the shop in admiration. “I just want to take all of this in.”

 

“Got it,” Debbie said, patting her friend gently on the back as she walked in between the shelves, perusing the various titles. Some were familiar, while most were completely foreign to her. A few titles caught her attention, but upon reading the back of the books she figured she needn’t know more than the hilarity of said titles. The ones that stood out the most were;  _ The Porn Detective _ ,  _ I Kissed A Zombie - and I liked it, God Is In The Pancakes,  _ amongst many other that seemed to outrageous to be legit.

 

Her fingers ran across the faded lettering of a particular book, one of relatively normal thickness, about 300 hundred pages or so. The spine of the book was reddish, tinged with orange, and was in pristine condition. The title struck her as familiar, and she pulled it from the shelf with great care, letting the book settle in her hands as she tried to figure out why it seemed so familiar to her. The front of the book showed a pile of salt which stretched to embrace part of the spine as well. The title was boldly displayed, underlined by the words  _ A Modern Novel of Two Women. _

 

_ The Price of Salt _ . It clicked within her mind at once. She had seen Lou reading this book several times throughout the week, although the version she had must have been significantly newer, given the difference in binding and cover art. Opening up to the first page of the book, Debbie figured out that it was indeed the first edition of the book, signed with flowing lettering on the title page. She put the book back in its place, making a mental note of its placement. 

 

Yet another title caught her eye, and as she pulled out the book she chuckled to herself.  _ The Joy of Lesbian Sex - a tender and liberated guide to the pleasures and problems of a lesbian lifestyle.  _ She opened on a random page, finding herself face to face with an illustration of two women engaged in  _ very _ intimate relations. Her eyes travelled curiously across the image, and even though she had engaged in casual trysts with other girls before, this was something she found at once new and exciting. 

 

Pictured was a woman, all that was visible her muscular back and the back of her head, as she lay between the legs of another woman, her head thrown back in ecstacy. It was something Debbie had never experienced, not with any man or woman. Something far more intimate than she had ever been comfortable attempting.

 

“Feeling inspired?” a gravelly voice drawled in her ear, and she spun as quickly as her body would let her, slamming the book shut around her thumb with a pained whimper.

 

Lou laughed at her reaction and Debbie found her back flush with the shelf behind her. The corners of the books dug into the skin of her back but she found she couldn’t move away if she wanted to. She was unable - part from surprise, part from the hand Lou had placed beside her head, and the final, miniscule part, from the warmth that Lou was emitting, the hot breath that wafted through the air and onto her own face.

 

“Not sure what you mean,” Debbie attempted feebly, knowing full well that Lou had seen exactly what she was looking at.

 

“Really? You want to try and pull that on me?” Lou said, leaning in closer, their noses nearly touching. She snatched the book from Debbie’s hands, despite Debbie’s protests.

 

“I just thought the title was interesting.”

 

Lou read the title of the book and chuckled, the sound of her laughter wrapping itself around Debbie like warm honey. Then she opened the book, flipping through the pages until she found what Debbie had been looking at. A smirk tugged at her lips as her vivid blue eyes travelled across the graphic image, before settling on Debbie’s face. Debbie’s cheeks were warm, and she knew for a fact that she must be blushing.

 

“It sure…  _ looks _ interesting.”

 

“Familiar, maybe?” Debbie tried, raising her brows at the smirking blonde.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lou winked at her - actually  _ winked _ .

 

“Just making small talk,” Debbie said with an attempt at a casual shrug. As expected, Lou saw right through her. Seemed her lying had no effect on Lou, no matter how much she despised the blonde’s ability to see through her as if she were nothing but a sheer blouse, or a slightly foggy window.

 

“Do you often make small talk about the sexual experiences of your friends?” she wondered.

 

“It happens now and then.”

 

“Could Tammy confirm that?”

 

“I make exceptions,” Debbie grinned. “Besides, I don’t want to hear of my friends sexual experiences with  _ each other _ .”

 

“I think a large dose of curiosity is healthy,” Lou said, shrugging with a conspiratory glint in her eyes.

 

“Debbie!” Tammy suddenly called, skipping down the line of shelves that Lou and Debbie were sheltered by. She stopped in her tracks, and watched as Lou extracted herself from Debbie’s personal space in a most leisurely manner. Her mouth dropped open, into a telling ‘o’ shape that spoke of both surprise and realization. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.” she said meekly.

 

“You’re not,” Debbie grasped the book from Lou, shoving it into the first open slot she saw in the bookshelf. “We were just talking. Right, Lou?”

 

The blonde straightened her back, and although she had moved from Debbie’s immediate vicinity she was still close enough for Debbie to sense the lingering scent of her perfume, black pepper and anise seed. Lou feigned innocence, her eyes wide and pure, although her smirk was as much present now as it had been moments before. Debbie couldn’t stop looking at that infuriating set of her lips, feeling her stomach grow hot at the sight of it.

 

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, turning her head to wink at Tammy, the action hidden from Debbie’s view. “Just talking.”

 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Tammy drawled, nodding slowly as she began walking backwards, gesturing with a paper-wrapped book over her shoulder. “Well, we should get going if we want to meet the others on time.”

 

“Right,” Debbie said as she tore her eyes from Lou’s mouth and attempted to focus her attention solely on Tammy. “Right. We should.”

 

“Amita and I will be outside,” Tammy said, nearly at the end of the row now. She pointed to where Debbie had attempted to insert the book, half of it still poking out from its place on the shelf. “If you want to buy that.”

 

“What?” Debbie whirled around and upon seeing the book, she pushed it into the shelf with such force that the book on the opposite side of it came crashing to the floor, hitting the ground with a solid thud. “We’re not buying anything.”

 

“No, just looking,” Lou grinned. “We’ll be out in a minute.”

 

Tammy seemed eager to get away from the awkward tension that thrived between the bookshelves - not to mention between Lou and Debbie - and so she simply nodded and smiled in confusion, turning to exit the building with her own book tucked under her arm. Debbie looked at Lou uncertainly, unsure of what Lou could possibly think warranted them not leaving right this second. She wasn’t about to spend any more time in such close quarters with Lou, not if she could help it. She pushed away from the shelf behind her completely, using Lou’s momentary lack of attention to slip away before she could be cornered again. She heard Lou laugh behind her as she ducked out of the shop, and only looked back when she was outside. Lou went up to the cashier and paid for…  _ something _ . Then he handed her a bag with her purchase, alongside a few square items that could only be records. When she stepped outside she continued to snicker at Debbie, leaving Debbie to feel utterly ridiculous, and somewhat offended. If Amita and Tammy noticed, they were wise enough to keep quiet about it.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Central Park was crowded, albeit not as crowded as one would fear on such a day, it being one of the last days of sun in store for the foreseeable future. There were a few kids who had chosen to release their boats onto the yet calm waters of the pond, laughing and running along the edge as the small vessels raced against the breeze. The group of girls were seated beneath a magnificent elm tree, its branches twisting and intertwining in an elaborate labyrinth of life. They sat in a half circle, Debbie leaning against the trunk of the tree as her girls surrounded her.

 

Lou’s head was rested in Tammy’s open lap, and her eyes were closed as she repeatedly threw a small rock into the air, catching it effortlessly. Tammy was stroking her hair absentmindedly as she engaged in conversation with Amita, discussing whatever book it was she had found at Frederick’s. Debbie watched the scene before her with keen interest, simultaneously picking at the wilting grass by her feet.

 

“I always liked the work of Salinger,” Tammy mused, hands stilling as Lou grunted in dissatisfaction.

 

“Really?” she said haughtily. “Did you ever read any of his stuff? Guy’s a pretentious douche.”

 

“No way,” Tammy said, crossing her arms. “Then why is Catcher in the Rye such a classic, hm?”

 

“Because it was written in the 1950’s when no one gave enough shits to write from a teenager’s perspective until he did,” Lou said, letting the rock land on her chest and tumble down into Tammy’s lap. “It’s really not that great anymore.”

 

“I liked him,” Debbie chimed in, pleasantly surprised to find that they were a discussing a book she had actually read. “I mean, I didn’t like _ him _ , I enjoyed the book.”

 

“That’s surprising,” Lou turned her eyes upward, straining to look at Debbie. “I didn’t think you were into that kind of angsty, self-indulgent crap.”

 

“Be a bigger hypocrite, why don’t you?” Debbie said.

 

A smile tugged at her lips as Lou extracted herself from Tammy’s lap and sat up straight, turning her full attention to Debbie. The golden chains around her neck swayed delicately across the exposed skin of her throat, the pendants falling into the open space where her shirt was unbuttoned, grazing a pale collarbone. She crossed her legs and leaned towards Debbie.

 

“Do you find me angsty, Ocean?”

 

“I find you pretentious,” Debbie challenged, quirking a brow as Lou’s eyes went wide, before narrowing in offense.

 

“I find you ignorant,” she snapped.

 

“I find the sexual tension between you two unbearable,” Daphne muttered through barely parted lips, making the rest of the girls erupt in varying degrees of laughter as Debbie turned red, and a faint pink complexion reached Lou’s otherwise emotionless face.

 

“We don’t-”

 

“Don’t try,” Rose interjected as Debbie attempted to speak. “We can all see it.”

 

“You are pretty hot,” Lou was first to recover, shrugging as she wiggled her brows at Debbie. It was a weak attempt at relieving the awkward tension suddenly pervading the group. Debbie appreciated it nonetheless.

 

“I suppose you have a few redeeming qualities,” she said. “Although being subtle isn’t one of them.”

 

“I can’t help the heart eyes,” Lou folded her hands together in prayer and batted her eyelashes in Debbie’s direction, “if my beloved leader’s presence sends my heart a-flutter.”

 

“Stop.”

 

“With your eyes like pools of melted chocolate, and your lips like rose petals,” Lou pressed a hand to her chest, reaching towards the sky with the other. She let herself fall sideways, landing with her head in Debbie’s lap.

 

“Shut up.”

 

“And your gentle being, beloved by children and animals, no doubt,” Lou went on with a pointed stare. “A heart the size of an elephant’s, and a brain to match. Aye, what one would give to lay with such a lady.”

 

Debbie grabbed the rambling blonde by the shoulders and pushed her out of her lap. She found that her face was uncomfortably warm, despite the fact that Lou was merely horsing around. The others were laughing at their antics, seemingly willing to let the subject of their sexual tension - not that they had any - go. Lou recovered quickly, rolling back towards Debbie with a look of feigned hurt.

 

“Alas,” she sighed conclusively, “I am once again struck down by the power of your doubt and pride. I, a mere cattle farmer, stand no chance with the daughter of a king.”

 

“I am really going to need you to shut up soon,” Debbie rolled her eyes, and fought to keep from laughing at Lou’s dramatics.

 

“This is way too cute,” Constance groaned and rose to her feet, stretching her arms above her head, her sweatshirt lifting to expose her belly. “I am so not here for you two making kissy faces all day.”

 

“Don’t be a grump,” Rose reached up and tugged at Constance’s shirt, pulling her back into the grass.

 

“Do you not find me alluring, my liege?” Lou said, raising her hand to cup Debbie’s cheek, a calloused thumb stroking the skin. “Can I not persuade you to take a chance on a girl from humble beginnings, such as yours truly?”

 

“I’d rather set myself on fire.”

 

“Mean.”

 

“Okay, I agree with Constance,” Daphne nodded solemnly to herself. “You’re disgusting.”

 

“Can we just go get food?” Constance fell back onto the grass with a dull thump.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

They ate at a Subway near Central Park, and wandered the streets for a while, joking around as they passed various novelty shops. Constance and Nine Ball repeatedly poked fun at the clothing displayed in the windows of the high end fashion stores that they made their way past, while Rose and Daphne engaged in several discussions regarding the cuts and the fabrics. Lou and Tammy walked ahead of the group, Lou’s arm swung casually around Tammy’s slim figure as she gesticulated wildly with her other hand. Occasionally Tammy threw her head back and laughed, other times she pointed out various landmarks to Lou who asked questions with genuine curiosity. Debbie walked a few paces behind the pair, Amita at her side rambling on about the merits of various jewels, never once realizing that Debbie was all but listening to her.

 

Instead she listened to the way Lou’s laughter tumbled from her lips, the steady pounding of her boots against the pavement, the way her words drifted through the evening air. And she thought that maybe she was just the least bit annoyed with Lou, for hogging Tammy all day, while Nine Ball walked with Constance. It wasn’t proper upholdance of the girl code, by any means.

 

Lou looked over her shoulder, and Debbie swiftly turned her eyes downwards, for some reason finding her own inability to stop staring at Lou embarrassing. She was never one to be ashamed of her actions, no matter what those actions were, or who they were directed towards. Yet Lou’s glance made her feel self conscious in a way she was horrible unfamiliar with.

 

The blonde turned to Tammy and said something, to which Tammy responded with a knowing grin and a nod. Then Lou slowed her pace, letting Debbie move ahead until she could fall into step with her. Debbie spared her a glance, and then turned her eyes to the looming building approaching ahead of them.

 

“What’s with you, sourpuss?” Lou bumped into her shoulder purposefully, her hands settled in her pockets.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Lou said. “Mind trying that again?”

 

“Lou,” Debbie turned her head to look at the blonde, who was watching her with rapt attention. “Drop it, please.”

 

It was a rare display of pleading that was so very out of character for Debbie, and Lou must have known. She just nodded, turning her gaze from Debbie and pressing her lips into a tight line. Although Debbie thought she might leave it at that and return to Tammy’s side, Lou kept to her pace, walking close enough for their shoulders to bump every now and then. The touch, albeit throwing her off her confident gait, was somewhat comforting. It was a side effect of Lou’s casual nature, Debbie reasoned. Nothing but a reflection of the feelings that Lou projected into the universe.

 

It pained her, to walk side by side with Lou. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but every time their shoulders touched, or their hands brushed, she felt as if something wasn’t quite right.

 

“Guys,” Amita suddenly stopped walking, and the others halted. “Haven’t we already passed by this place?”

 

She gestured towards the facade of a bar, adorned with neon lights that signalled its current deals on drinks and displayed the variety of beers they served.

 

“If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is,” Daphne grinned widely, grabbing Rose by the hand and beginning to steer towards the entrance. 

 

“Come on guys,” Debbie groaned. “Really?”

 

“Don’t be a grump, Debbie,” Amita said. “Let loose.”

 

“It looks sketchy,” at least Tammy shared in her hesitance.

 

“You guys really need to lighten up,” Lou rolled her eyes, and before Debbie or Tammy could even blink she grabbed a hand from each and pulled them towards the door.

 

The inside of the bar was surprisingly modern in its decor, with leather booths and steel tables, and a bar that was constructed out of one single slab of mahogany. It was surprisingly crowded, despite it being barely nine o’clock, and compared to the other patrons at the bar, their group seemed slightly underdressed. Nevertheless, Daphne was quick to claim an unoccupied booth, where they all squeezed in, in an attempt to make them all fit. Debbie ended up sandwiched between Constance, and by the grace of no God whatsoever, Lou.

 

Fortunately, Lou was at the very edge of the booth, and was the first to go and get them a round of drinks. She draped her coat across the back of her seat, and left in the direction of the bar. She returned with a tray of craft beers, and eight shots of something Debbie was unable to identify. She watched as Tammy and Amita eyed the tray cautiously. Despite Amita’s willingness to enter the bar, she was not known for being a big drinker, and Tammy was… well, Tammy.

 

Lou placed a beer and a shot in front of each girl, and while Constance immediately downed the shot, all the others waited as they watched Lou raise her glass with an air of importance.

 

“To a long and successful senior year,” she toasted. “Cheers!”

 

The others hollered out their own cheers, and Debbie, encouraged by the excitement around her, took her shot with little resistance. Even Tammy drank hers, although she looked on the verge of crying at the foul taste. Amita left hers untouched, and with a simple exchanging of looks pushed it towards Debbie who accepted it gratefully. It followed the path of the first one, and even as her eyes burned with unshed tears of displeasure, she felt the warmth settle in the pit of her belly and it alerted her to a feeling of ease that she hadn’t felt much today.

 

“Thirsty?” Lou asked, a teasing brow causing Debbie’s sense of sudden calm to fade just the slightest.

 

“Sometimes a girl just needs a drink,” Debbie said. She was in no mood to entertain every jab of Lou’s, and figured sticking to the near truth would be her best bet.

 

“I feel you,” Lou surprised her with the solemn look that overtook her features. A small, understanding smile played on her face the second after, and she rose to her feet. “Let me get you something stronger. What’s your poison?”

 

“Such a cliché phrase,” Debbie muttered, and then she looked at Lou with challenge in her eyes. “Get me a Negroni if you must.”

 

“One Negroni, coming your way,” Lou saluted her. Then she turned her back to the table and walked to the bar once more.

 

“What’s with the stiff drink?” Constance asked. “You trying to gulp down some dark shit?”

 

“Just because I didn’t order a pina colada it doesn’t mean I’m upset,” Debbie rolled her eyes.

 

“I only order pina coladas when I’m upset,” Amita mumbled from Constance’s side, looking down into her beer with distaste.

 

“Virgin?” Nine Ball grinned.

 

“Definitely,” Daphne chuckled, leaning into Rose’s side, whispering something in her ear that made her blush furiously.

 

Lou was quick to return with Debbie’s drink, placing it in front of her as she slid back into her seat. In front of herself she placed what looked to be whisky, although Debbie had never been very efficient at telling the difference between whisky and cognac. It occured to her that Lou had somehow managed to buy these drinks, despite only being 18 years old.

 

“Fake ID?” she asked.

 

“Feminine charm,” Lou winked, sipping gingerly at her drink.

 

Tammy, who was sat across from Lou, leaned onto the table with her elbow, resting her head in her hand. “Feminine? If anything you’re masculine. Or handsome.”

 

Lou raised her brows at Tammy’s words, while Debbie frowned, about to interject so she could inform Tammy that Lou was neither handsome nor masculine, but perfectly androgynous and beyond words such as beautiful or handsome. But she bit her tongue, instead pondering where that thought had come from, and why she was suddenly seeing pictures of Lou clad in her workout clothes, and Lou clad in practically  _ nothing _ , swimming within her eyes. It was probably the alcohol.

 

“Much obliged, Tam-Tam,” Lou raised her glass in a mock cheers, clinking her glass against Tammy’s as the latter copied her actions.

 

“Yeah dude,” Constance suddenly said, leaning her whole body in front of Debbie, nearly knocking over her drink. “You’re  _ hot _ .”

 

“Insanely hot,” Daphne said, earning herself a glare from Rose, although she had to nod in agreement.

 

“Come on guys,” Lou rolled her eyes, “I’m obviously not the most attractive person here.”

 

“Who is then?” Daphne challenged, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

“No, she’s asking because she doesn’t care at all,” Debbie finally spoke up, this time the one to roll her eyes at the question, no matter how jokingly it was uttered.

 

“You’re just afraid she won’t think it’s you,” Daphne said.

 

“Right,” Debbie responded drily. “Because I care  _ so much _ about what Lou thinks of my physique.”

 

Although she tried to sound flippant and indifferent, there was a part of Debbie that ached to know who Lou was referring to. There was an element of fear that it might be Tammy, and that Lou was slowly moving into a love triangle that wouldn’t end well, with the potential to break up their group of friends. It definitely wasn’t because she wanted Lou to think it was her. Why should she care? Sure, they did some harmless flirting, but wasn’t that normal for a pair of friends to do? Their chemistry had proven to be quite complicated, and to Debbie, complicated did not mean good. She preferred easy, well thought-out, sensible plans. Complicated did not mesh well with that.

 

“Get me drunk and I might tell you,” Lou promised jokingly, knocking their shoulders together.

 

“And have to carry you home?” Debbie huffed in laughter. “No way.”

 

“I can handle my liquor,” Lou said indignantly. “Fucked up parties, remember?”

 

Debbie did remember. The brief mention of Lou’s past, a subject she had barely touched upon yet. A confession regarding times passed, an edge to the memory that Debbie didn’t know the full extent of.

 

“If you say so, Elizabeth Taylor.”

 

“Is that a challenge?”

 

“No,” Debbie said. “I already told you I won’t be carrying you home, didn’t I?”

 

“I’d drink you under the table, no problem,” Lou scoffed. “You can sit around pretending to enjoy strong spirits all you want, but I bet you couldn’t drink more than one of those.”

 

She rotated her finger in the direction of Debbie’s glass. Debbie picked up the drink and took a large swig of it, before humming in satisfaction, letting her eyes fall closed as she savored the flavor. “You were saying?”

 

“Touché.”

 

The room filled with laughter and light conversation as the minutes drifted on, backed by the tones of soft rock and the occasional ballad. Debbie was drawn into a conversation with Constance and Nine Ball, who were trying to decide on the worst possible baby names out there. Constance mentioned Juniper, Dax, Harley and Maserati, which she mentioned a cousin of hers had actually named her kid. Constance had refused to meet the child. Nine Ball contributed with Dagwood, Trixie, Ajax and Beberly. When Debbie threw in Constance as a worthy contender, Constance herself elbowed her in the ribs, shoving her towards an unprepared Lou. Lou steadied Debbie who was close to knocking over half the empty glasses on the table. She had consumed her fair share of alcohol since that first drink, having engaged in an unspoken battle with Lou who was nursing her 4th whisky on the rocks. 

 

Debbie shot her an apologetic smile before returning to the conversation at hand, although she found herself slightly distracted by the mumbled exchange taking place between Tammy and Lou right next to her. She made out snippets, sure she heard her own name at least once or twice, along with that of Nine Ball. Then more murmuring. And her name again. And something that was so quiet and subdued, but was evidently clear enough in its meaning to make Lou’s smile turn bitter. She stood to excuse herself, heading for the backdoor. Debbie allowed a minute to pass, before she turned to Tammy.

 

“What was that about?” she asked.

 

“Nothing,” Tammy was quick to say. If Debbie didn’t know her as well as she did, she might’ve believed her.

 

“Right,” she drawled, sliding over in the booth and standing up. “Why don’t I go ask her?”

 

“Deb,” Tammy made an attempt to stop her, grabbing at her wrist. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Just…” Tammy trailed off, as if she was unsure if she could elaborate on her thoughts. “Please?”

 

Debbie chuckled, shaking off Tammy’s hands and ignoring her plea, her own wobbly legs carrying her in the direction Lou had disappeared to.

 

She found Lou standing outside, leaning against the cold brick of the building, a cigarette placed between her fingers. Her emerald green dress shirt seemed reflective in the dull light of the single lamp in the alley. She was staring into space, a blank expression on her face. The tones of  _ Faith _ by George Michael escaped into the night. When she heard the door shut with a heavy thud she turned to see who had interrupted her, smiling softly as she spotted Debbie. Debbie shifted her hands, trying to pull them into the sleeves of her sweater in an attempt to shield herself from the harsh breeze that had fallen upon the city.

 

“Oh,” Debbie hugged herself closely. She was slightly surprised to find that Lou seemed to merely have gone outside to smoke. Somehow she had expected her to be upset. “You’re just smoking.”

 

Her thoughts were muddled, slowed down by the amount of alcohol she had consumed. While she was completely aware of her surroundings, she found that she was experiencing difficulty when trying to think out her actions before she made them. She stepped towards Lou, leaning onto the wall right beside her, leaning into the blonde in what she thought was an imperceptible manner.

 

“What’d you think I’d be doing?” Lou mumbled her question, and Debbie was sure she felt her lean into her too.

 

“You looked upset when you left.”

 

“Upset?” Lou quirked a brow into the evening air. “I wouldn’t say I’m upset.”

 

“Then what are you?” Debbie turned her face into Lou’s shoulder, breathing in her scent. She had sensed it in the book store, but this close it was a very different experience. It was a spicy scent, musky and alluring. It mixed with the fragrance of her cinnamon shampoo to create an aura of safety and comfort, while still being mysterious.

 

“Inebriated,” Lou chuckled.

 

Debbie felt a pair of lips against the top of her head, and her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to decipher the meaning of the touch. Then Lou’s lips were gone, and she heard her inhale, the smell of smoke overpowering Lou’s otherwise pleasant scent.

 

“Why do you do that?” Debbie sighed.

 

“Didn’t we talk about this already? Stress relief.”

 

“What’s to be stressed about?” Debbie asked. “Family still? School stuff?”

 

“I guess you could say it’s school stuff,” Lou smirked.

 

Debbie moved to stand in front of her, reaching for the cigarette with an outstretched set of fingers. Perplexed, Lou handed it to her. “You don’t smoke.”

 

“I have a lot of things on my mind, too,” Debbie shrugged, inhaling deeply as she pressed the cigarette between her lips. As she removed it, she felt her eyes water as she swallowed the urge to cough.

 

“You don’t smoke,” Lou repeated, this time with a teasing tinge to her voice as she grabbed her cigarette again.

 

Debbie laughed. A full-belly laugh that had her cheeks hurting and her tummy filling with radiating warmth. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly found the situation so funny, but she couldn’t help it. It felt as if the tension that had consumed her body as of late was finally elevated and she felt at ease for once. 

 

“I really don’t,” she giggled, grabbing on to Lou’s sleeve. She stepped in close, leaning her forehead against Lou’s shoulder as she continued to chuckle.

 

“God, you’re drunk.”

 

“Only a little,” Debbie protested, and even though she did feel the buzz and the pleasure brought on from the alcohol, she mostly felt… “I’m just happy.”

 

Lou reached out to steady her, placing her hand delicately against Debbie’s back. Even through the layers of her clothes, Debbie could feel the gentle pressure and it made her spine tingle. Imagine what it would be like if she wasn’t wearing all those layers… She presses her lips to the nape of Lou’s neck, her lips catching slightly on the collar of her shirt. Determined, she uses her chin to push it aside and returns her ministrations. She doesn’t use much pressure, barely even aware of her own actions. She hears Lou sigh, and feels her throat move as she begins to speak.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Debbie grins against Lou’s skin, grazing her teeth against her neck. “Nothing.”

 

“Feels like something,” Lou lets her hand remain in its spot against Debbie’s lower back, but her other hand moves Debbie’s head away from her body, and lifts her by the chin to look into her eyes.

 

It’s the seriousness present in Lou’s gaze that has Debbie realizing what it is she’s doing. She becomes all too aware of how close she is to Lou, how their legs are pressed together and their upper bodies mere inches apart. She also becomes all too aware of how much she finds herself enjoying the closeness, the feel of Lou so very near.

 

Lou looks confused, and Debbie figures she has plenty of reason to be. Debbie has been shutting down most of her attempts at flirting, has been very vocal about her dislike of the blonde’s mannerisms and personal quirks, and she knows that her actions speak against everything she has previously given voice to. Debbie has to focus her mind as to resist from leaning in ever closer, instead trying to convey with her eyes what she is unable to say out loud.

 

They’re friends. It’s not like they’re in love, or even  _ like _ each other. But they’re friends, and sometimes friends make out, right? She’s seen Daphne and Nine Ball do it on several occasions, and even Nine Ball and Rose every so often. It’s merely a curiosity, an urge to expand on their friendship in a strictly physical, fun way.

 

So she leans in and kisses the corner of Lou’s mouth, slowly leaning back, allowing Lou to make the next move. Lou does not disappoint.

 

There is barely a second of hesitation before Lou pulls her in, her hand cupping her cheek with a desperate pull, and her other hand holding her as close to her body as the universe allows. In the split-second before moving, her eyes traverse Debbie’s lips, a hunger in her bright eyes.

 

Lips. Endlessly soft lips. Lips that complete her and lips that undo her.

 

It’s what goes through Debbie’s mind as she lets Lou take the lead, setting the pace. Her lips are wet and slippery against her own as their tongues intertwine and the harsh breaths of air escaping their nostrils heats the air between them.

 

Debbie’s hands are freezing cold against the soft skin of Lou’s stomach as they travel beneath her shirt, smoothing over defined muscle. Lou’s hand on her back snakes beneath the layers of Debbie’s clothes, until Debbie can feel her fingernails scratch at the skin right above her ass.

 

She hates to say that she sees stars, because she doesn’t. It’s more like she is engulfed by a sudden overwhelming darkness, as if dumped into a sensory deprivation tank, where all that she can feel is  _ Lou _ . A seventh sense of sorts, one that only registered the woman before her.

 

“What is this?” Lou breathes, before connecting their lips once more. It’s as if she doesn’t really care for an answer, what with the fervor with which she is kissing Debbie, sucking the breath right out of her.

 

“Just…” Debbie can’t finish the sentence without leaning in for another mind shattering kiss. “Fun.”

 

“Okay,” Lou nods, connecting their foreheads and holding a single finger against Debbie’s chin to keep her from going back for more. “I can do fun. If that’s all this is?”

 

“Just fun,” Debbie confirms, impatient. “It’s not as if we like each other or anything.”

 

“Right,” Lou says with a slow nod. “Just fun.”

 

It is all that needs to be said. Their lips collide once more, and although their noses bump and their teeth smash together every now and then, it is a perfect mess that satisfies a roaring monster in the pit of Debbie’s stomach. Not to mention the creature it awakens within the confines of her body. She is hot all over, and as Lou’s fingernails drag across the skin of her back it is like she is struck by lightning. It’s electric, it’s magnificent, and it is more than likely so, so,  _ dumb _ .

 

Not that logic or common sense is of any importance when Lou is touching her like this, and Debbie’s own hand enjoy the immense pleasure of feeling the muscles she had admired for so long ripple beneath her fingertips.

 

It is ecstasy.

 

It is freedom.

 

It is  _ flight _ .

 

It is the beginning of something undefinable and utterly terrifying.

 

And Debbie is ready for it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought, and what you'd like to see next! Your comments help me fight the writer's block!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are the nourishment that writers flourish on, and I am no different. Let me know what you thought, and what you'd like to see next!
> 
> (I don't speak French by the way. Any and all mistakes in that part of the story are totally mine, but I tried my best.)


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